


We Could Not Stay

by Howlingdawn



Series: I'm Coming Home (To Breathe Again) [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Crew as Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Emotional Abuse, but hey she's vulcan and angry she can grow up a bit (a lot) too fast, i have probably taken immense liberties with the characterization of a 3yo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2020-10-13 03:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 45,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20575853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howlingdawn/pseuds/Howlingdawn
Summary: In a universe where the Enterprise was never sent to Altamid, Jim stayed on at Yorktown and Spock left Starfleet to raise a Vulcan family. Four and a half years later, just before Jim is set to reunite with the remaining crew on a trip to Earth, Spock shows up at his office with two children in his arms. He's exhausted, defeated, and struggling - and so is Jim. If they band together, maybe they can fix both of their lives - with, of course, some help from the rest of the crew.





	1. An Unexpected Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This idea hit me early this afternoon during a rewatch of Beyond and it refused to leave me alone because I can never resist some good Spock angst, so I knocked this out in a few hours and decided to impulse post it. Hope you enjoy!

Jim dropped his head with a ragged sigh, scrubbing at his dry, tired eyes. Lifting his head, he pushed out of his chair, stretching out his aching back before stepping over to his office window.

He had found Yorktown beautiful once. Four years ago, it had seemed like a haven, a place of beauty and intrigue at the boundary of the known and the unknown. It had been new and inspiring, the perfect place to get a fresh start in life, to leave behind George Kirk and discover who Jim Kirk really was.

Now, it felt like a prison. He was trapped behind his desk for hours on end, trapped in meeting after meeting after meeting, trapped in the same routine walk from his apartment to the office and back again. He had long since explored every nook and cranny of the base, long since met people of every major species who visited, long since lost his taste for sparring holograms in place of everything else that had once given him the adrenaline highs he craved.

He was bored. All day. Every day. He was _bored_.

Heaving another sigh, he turned back to his desk. It took a moment of mustering up all of his willpower to force himself back into the chair, to wake up his monitor, to reopen the spreadsheet he had been filling out.

He almost wanted to cry at the thought of doing this for three more hours.

_A break is near, _he reminded himself for the gazillionth time. _I just have to hold out a little longer-_

His desktop communicator beeped. “Kirk here,” he answered, forcing his glazed eyes to remain on the numbers.

_“You have a visitor, sir,” _a young man answered, sounding as bored as Jim felt. He heard the faint cry of a baby in the background and chalked it up to a new parent visiting some on-duty family member. _“Three, actually.”_

_Oh thank God, a distraction. _“Send them up,” he ordered.

_“Don’t you want to know who-”_

“Nope. Send them up.”

He ended the communication and leaned back, scrubbing at his eyes and running a hand through his hair, trying to look like he at least vaguely cared about his job.

The moment they walked through the door, he forgot all about that.

“_Spock_?”

His former first officer stood in the doorway, dressed now in rumpled civilian clothing, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Massive bags shadowed his exhausted eyes. In one arm, he cradled an infant; his other hung down, holding the hand of a little girl. Both had pointed Vulcan ears, but while the little girl stood with the rigid stance of a Vulcan, her undoubtedly human eyes looked warily up at Jim.

“Captain,” he greeted hollowly. He was clearly trying to hold himself upright, trying to emulate the same air of Vulcan strength he had once commanded, but his slumped shoulders and downcast eyes ruined the effort. “We could not stay on New Vulcan.”

Jim made his way quickly to his old friend’s side, not missing the way the little girl shifted protectively in front of Spock, as if her three-foot frame would do anything to protect him from a fully-grown man. “Spock, what the he- what the heck happened?”

He reached out, meaning to rest a steadying hand on Spock’s shoulder, but he shied away from the contact. “We could not stay on New Vulcan,” he repeated, his voice dangerously close to a mumble.

_I got that much._ “Ok,” he said, squashing all trace of sarcasm from his voice. “Ok, um- do you want someone to watch those two while we talk?”

“No,” he said immediately, eyes flying up to meet Jim’s for the first time since he had come in. His grip tightened on the baby as he pulled the girl’s hand closer to him. “No,” he repeated, steadying his voice. “I prefer to stay with them.”

But he couldn’t quite hide the lingering panic in his eyes.

“Ok,” Jim said again, quiet and gentle. “We can go back to my place, then. You look like you could use some tea.”

Spock did nothing but nod, dropping his eyes to the baby as she wriggled in his arm.

Heart sinking to the floor, Jim edged around the little girl and led them to his apartment.

\-----

An hour later, Jim and Spock sat beside each other at his kitchen counter. Spock cradled his third steaming cup of tea, leaning over it. His attention had hardly left the two children, who were now situated in the living room. The girl was on the couch reading an old paperback book, while the infant slept in a crib Jim had borrowed from his neighbor whose son had just grown out of it.

“They’re yours, aren’t they?”

It was phrased as a question, but Jim knew the answer. The girl had kept up a distinct glare at Jim until Spock had given her the book, and upon closer inspection, the infant’s ears started to curve into human roundness before arching back into a tiny tip. They both, without a doubt, had human blood running through their veins.

“Yes,” Spock said, watching the girl. His voice was steadier now, as if the tea and privacy had strengthened him, but he was just as quiet as before.

Jim glanced between the little family. “Where’s their mother?”

Silence.

_That bodes well for this conversation. _“Spock, no one’s heard from you in four years, and you just showed up at my doorstep with no warning and two kids. I’ll do whatever I can to help you, but I need to know something about what happened.”

“I tried to reintegrate into Vulcan society. It did not go well.”

“Spock. You gotta work with me, buddy.”

Spock closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to gather his strength, and in that moment, he looked more human than he ever had. “I married a Vulcan woman named T’Pring. She was… less than pleased. But the man she had wished to marry died when Vulcan was destroyed, and as we were once betrothed, the pairing was logical. She soon became pregnant with our first daughter, and our second followed quickly.”

“Seems a little fast, based on what I know about Vulcan biology,” Jim said, trying out a hint of teasing.

“We no longer have the luxury of waiting,” Spock answered shortly.

_Right. No teasing. Got it._

“Sorry. Please continue.”

Spock took a long drink of tea before he did. “I did my best to be Vulcan for her, though I knew from past experience that I would never fully measure up to her standards. I had hoped that she would not apply the same disdain to our children, and for a time, she did not. She seemed to accept them, human genetics and all.

“However, our eldest began to reject the strict logical teachings of her Vulcan elders. She said that she saw how the adults treated me and wanted no part of such a civilization. I tried to talk to her, but she adamantly refused to even tolerate what she called the notion of betraying me and her human heritage. When her sister became sick with a very human illness, T’Pring… snapped, to put it into human terms. She ranted about the impossibilities of living in such a human household and left. The next day, she sent her brother to collect her belongings.”

Jim’s heart broke more and more with every word as Spock seemed to shrink closer and closer to his tea, as if the drink were his first proper source of comfort in years. “Spock, I…” he started. But what could he say? What could possibly make up for any of that?

“That was a month ago.”

Jim stared. “A _month_? What have you been doing?”

“Traveling. My father took us here in his personal ship. However, he had to leave the moment we had disembarked.”

“Spock, that thing is barely bigger than a shuttlecraft,” Jim exclaimed. “Have you been living in that with two young kids for a month?”

“Yes.”

Jim reached out to squeeze his shoulder, hating that he felt relieved when Spock tensed at the touch but didn’t move away. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Spock. But you’re not alone anymore. I promise.”

Spock’s eyes flickered to the side, glancing at Jim out of the corner of his eye. “I am sorry for bringing this to you.”

“I’m not,” Jim said. He glanced out the window, his office building visible in the distance like a shadow. “I’m happy to help, believe me. And I know a few others who would feel the same.”

Spock looked at him in alarm. “Captain, no.”

“I’m not a captain anymore, and my name is Jim,” Jim reminded him gently. “And honored as I am, Spock, the two of us really can’t raise a pair of kids on our own forever.”

“We can learn-”

“It’s not about skill, Spock – you know I have experience with kids – it’s about the fact that the _Enterprise_ is due to pick me up for a trip to Earth. Tomorrow.”

Spock stood immediately, reaching for his bag of belongings. Across the room, his daughter snapped to attention. “This was a mistake-”

“Spock!” Jim sprang up and grabbed his arm. “Spock, it wasn’t a mistake.”

He half-heartedly tried to pull his arm free. “Jim…”

“Spock,” Jim repeated more gently, “we’re your _friends_. More than that, we’re your family.”

“A family I abandoned.”

_And there it is._

Keeping his hold on Spock, Jim spoke carefully. “Look, Spock, I won’t lie to you: You hurt a lot of people. First you left us, and then you stopped talking to us. But we would _never _turn our backs on you when you and your daughters clearly need our help. Ok? Never.”

Spock was very studiously looking only at the floor. “And what if I do not deserve your help?”

“Maybe you don’t,” Jim allowed quietly. Spock looked up at him, fear and heartbreak agonizingly visible in his human eyes. “But your kids never did anything to us. If you don’t believe we should help you, then believe we _will_ help them.”

After a long, eternal moment of silence, Spock nodded, some tension easing from his stance. Satisfied he wouldn’t try to leave again, Jim slowly let go of his arm. Spock sank back into his stool, gathering his tea close. “Thank you, Jim.”

“Any time, Spock.” He gestured at the girls. “What are their names?”

For the first time, the ghost of a smile dared to flicker across his face. “The elder is T’Lal, and the infant is Suna.”

Jim smiled back, looking at the sleeping baby and the girl who was still watching him with narrowed eyes. “Those are pretty names, Spock.”

_Pretty names for such a rough start._


	2. This Could Be Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this. Much faster than expected. I just,,, love these kiddos and can't wait to inflict angst upon the adults (and the kiddos. Because I'm me. Even the baby won't be spared.)

It took an hour of waiting for the right moment to bring it up and a further twenty minutes of debating the logicality of it for Jim to convince Spock to take a nap. Finally, after a closing argument that went something along the lines of “Take a damn nap before I knock you out myself,” Spock had relented, giving a brief explanation of what to do when Suna got hungry before retreating to Jim’s room. Which was clearly the only reason Jim was now rifling through Spock’s duffel bag.

_This is mostly stuff for the kids._

Diapers, Vulcan toys, tiny onesies and little outfits. By the time Jim found Suna’s formula and bottle, he had seen only a handful of things that actually belonged to Spock, and most of that was clothing. He maybe spilled a little as he mixed it, but he still made it to Suna with a fully prepared bottle just as she began to cry at precisely 1715 hours, just as Spock as said she would.

“Aren’t you a punctual little baby,” Jim said, lifting her out of the crib. “Must be all that Vulcan blood. You could drive Bones nuts with that one day.”

His voice stumbled a little over Bones’s name.

Her wails stopped the precise moment he picked her up and she blinked up at him with owlish eyes. Babbling in Vulcan gibberish, she batted at his chest.

Jim smiled at her. “You’ve never been held by a human, have you? I’m too warm _and _my heart’s in the wrong place.”

Her next little babble was English and almost sounded like a confirmation.

“Well, you’d better get used to it,” he told her, making his way to his desk and sitting before letting her have the bottle. “Your daddy can’t do all of this on his own.”

Judging by the way she nestled into his arms and started drinking contentedly, he figured she already was used to it.

“Computer,” he said once he was certain she was settled, “call the _Enterprise_.”

_“_Enterprise_ here,”_ came the answer a minute later, followed by a teasing _“What, you couldn’t wait for the morning?”_

“Don’t sound so flattered, Uhura,” Jim greeted, glancing nervously at Suna. _Please don’t make a noise._ “Can you patch me through to Captain Terrell? Privately, please.”

_“Sure. See you in the morning, Jim.”_

“Can’t wait.”

The channel went silent briefly, and then a video feed flickered to life on Jim’s monitor, revealing the gentle-hearted African American man who had taken over the _Enterprise_ after Jim and Spock left. His eyes flew wide in an instant. _“Well, Jim, I know we don’t talk too much, but I feel like this would’ve been worth mentioning.”_

Jim rolled his eyes. “She’s not mine, Craig. Promise.”

_“Good to know we’re not that out of touch. So, what’s up?”_

“Well, it is about her,” Jim admitted. “Partially, anyway.”

Craig leaned back, crossing his arms. _“This oughta be good.”_

“I’m bringing a few friends with me tomorrow,” Jim said.

_“Jim, I’m not really in the habit of beaming people aboard my ship without knowing who they are.”_

_My ship._

The words lanced through Jim’s heart. He had captained the _Enterprise_ for the first four and a half years of her service. He had found family there, a sense of belonging he had never known, and the only person in the quadrant who had known her better was Scotty. To hear another captain call her _his _ship…

He shook his head – it was far too late for regrets. “It’s Spock, Craig. Spock and his two daughters.”

Craig stared. _“Who and who now?”_

Jim sighed. “Look, I don’t think he’d really appreciate me explaining, but I can’t leave them alone here. I know it’s last minute, but if we could get neighboring quarters, that would be really helpful.”

The captain scrubbed a hand across his face. _“All right. We don’t have much in the way of family quarters, but I’ll do what I can. Anything else?”_

“Can you keep this between us?”

Craig arched an eyebrow. _“I would think a few people on my crew have a right to know ahead of time.”_

_My crew._

“You’re probably right,” Jim agreed, squashing down the jealousy, glancing at the door to his room. “But I think he’d rather tell them on his own terms.”

_“Ok,” _Craig said reluctantly. _“I hope that doesn’t blow up in both of your faces.”_

“Me too,” Jim murmured. “Thanks, Craig. Kirk out.”

With a nod, Craig ended the communication.

Jim looked up to see T’Lal watching at him.

He jumped. “T’Lal! Hi. What are you doing?”

“I am attempting to determine if I can trust you.”

“Ah.” Jim looked at her. Unlike every Vulcan woman Jim had met, her dark brown hair hung below her chin, tucked behind her ears. Her outfit was in a traditional Vulcan style, but differed in that it was dark pink instead of a neutral color. She carried herself with an air of eternal defiance, as if expecting her every move to be shot down. “You really don’t have much reason to trust adults, do you?”

She crossed her arms. “They always pick on my daddy. Only Grandfather never did.”

“I can imagine,” Jim sighed. “I guess you know why.”

“Because my grandma was human, and when the old Vulcan was destroyed, he stayed in Starfleet.”

“Do you know why he stayed in Starfleet?”

“T’Pring wouldn’t let him talk about it.”

Jim arched an eyebrow. “T’Pring? Isn’t she your mother?”

T’Lal’s eyes flashed. “She left us. She is not our mother.”

“All right,” he said, admiring her fiery spunk even as he hated the reason she had it. “What was Spock allowed to tell you about, then?”

She smirked. “I never said he didn’t tell me anyway.”

“So he _did _learn something from us humans,” Jim said. “I’m proud.”

Noticing that Suna had finished her bottle, Jim set it down and went to return her to her crib. She whined as he let go, reaching for him. He let her catch his finger in a surprisingly strong grip, reminding himself that she was supposed to feel a little cooler than he did. T’Lal climbed onto the couch to peer into the crib. “I think she likes you.”

“Yeah? The feeling’s mutual.”

T’Lal blinked. “What?”

“It means I like her too.”

“No, I… I have never heard someone talk so openly about emotions.”

Jim looked up at her. “Not even your dad?”

“He talks about them, but only in private.”

“He wasn’t always like that, you know. He wasn’t always so… repressed.”

For the first time, T’Lal’s wariness faded away, open curiosity filling her expression in its place. “What do you mean?”

Jim gently extricated his finger from Suna’s grip and went to sit on the couch. T’Lal plopped down, folding her legs beneath her. “He was comfortable with his human half back when he lived on the _Enterprise_. You see, we went through some very intense situations together, so the crew and I have seen Spock at his most vulnerable. He hated that at first, but after a time, he realized we weren’t judging him for it, and he relaxed a little. I’ve even seen him smile a couple times.”

“He _smiled_,” she repeated, dumbstruck.

Jim nodded. “Not often – he’s Vulcan, after all, and we’d have been killed a hundred times over without that side of him. But he did trust us when he needed – or even just _wanted_ – to be human. It made me feel rather honored, really, knowing what he went through during his childhood.”

T’Lal leaned back, considering him in silence for a long minute. “Daddy told me we had nowhere to go but here,” she eventually said. “Does that mean you were his last option or his only option?”

“You’d have to ask him,” Jim answered honestly. “But I’d like to think I was just his first option.”

“I think,” she said slowly, “that you _might_ be trustworthy.”

Jim bowed. “I’m honored, my lady.”

She laughed, and it was the first time she had sounded like a little kid. “Stop it.”

Jim grinned. “Come on, didn’t your dad ever tell you how much I annoy people?”

“I thought he was exaggerating!”

“You thought wrong, little lady. And I’ll prove it.”

He swooped in, attacking her with tickles. She shrieked in laughter, smacking at him. Jim rolled to the floor, pulling her down on top of him, and only then did she manage to wriggle away, gasping for breath between laughs. Lying on his back, laughing with her, Jim briefly thought it had been years since he’d had this much fun.

It was the closest he’d come to feeling like _himself_ again.

He used the couch to pull himself up. “You hungry? Cause I’m hungry.”

“Yes!” she said, bouncing to her feet. “Do you have _plomeek _soup?”

He went over to his replicator, scanning its menu and finding no _plomeek _soup. “Why don’t you go wake up your dad while I program this thing to make us some soup?”

She trotted off to do so, knocking on the door and closing it behind her when he called her in. Listening to his voice, Jim thought he sounded markedly stronger already.

_If only everything could be fixed with a nap._

\-----

When his daughter knocked, Spock called her in, trying to appear as if he had just woken.

Truthfully, he had woken at Suna’s first cry for her formula. The walls had not quite been designed for Vulcan ears, but that fact notwithstanding, he had always been sensitive to his daughters’ needs. Perhaps it was love, perhaps it was knowing how other Vulcans would ignore them, perhaps it was both. Regardless, the fact remained that he had been awake, and while he had been unable to make out the majority of the words, he had caught the gist of everything. He had heard Jim soothe Suna attentively, heard him talk with T’Lal, heard her laugh for the first time in five months.

It was, he’d reflected as he laid there in the darkness, the life she should have had. The life she would have had had Spock not left Nyota.

But then, had Spock not left Nyota, T’Lal and Suna would not exist.

“Did you sleep well?” T’Lal asked, climbing onto the bed beside him as Spock turned on Jim’s lamp.

“I did,” he answered, lying on his side and letting her nestle back against his chest. He draped his arm over her and took hold of her hand, closing his eyes and letting himself feel the relief that no one was around who would judge either of them if they were seen. “How do you like Jim?”

“He’s nice,” she said. “For now.”

“You will have to learn to trust people besides myself and your grandfather, T’Lal.”

“They have to earn it.”

Spock opened his eyes, finding a framed photograph of the _Enterprise_ crew hanging on the wall. “They will,” he assured her. “Sooner or later, you will find those who embrace all of who you are.”

“Jim said you found that with him and the others.”

“I did.”

She twisted around to look him in the eye. “Why did you leave?”

_Because I was grieving. Because I felt guilty. Because without Ambassador Spock, I felt… alone._

“I have told you my reasons, _ko-fu_.”

“You’ve told me of the logic behind your choice,” she countered. “Not the emotion.”

Gently, Spock tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, tracing its pointed tip as he looked deep into her human eyes. “You are as clever as your grandmother was.”

“You are avoiding the question.”

“I am,” he admitted. “What did you come in here to tell me?”

“Jim is making dinner.”

Spock lifted his head abruptly. “He is not cooking, is he?”

“He’s programming the replicator. Why?”

“You do not want to know.” Spock got out of bed, picking T’Lal up with him. “I will tell you my emotional reasons one day, but for now, we must keep Jim from trying to cook.”

He said that as he opened the door, prompting Jim to yell over his shoulder “That was one time, Spock!”

“One time that nearly killed Doctor McCoy.”

“He _lived_.”

“He lost an eyebrow.”

“It grew back.”

“Not before you brought his wrath down upon us all for several months.”

That made Jim wince. “Ok, yeah, don’t wanna repeat that part.” A mischievous grin grew on his face. “But Bones isn’t here, is he?”

Spock glared. “If either of my daughters loses an eyebrow, I will not hesitate to shave your entire head.”

Jim shrank back against the replicator, visibly fighting to suppress a smile. “Point taken, Mr. Spock.”

With a satisfied nod, Spock turned away to settle T’Lal at the table. She watched Jim with unguarded curiosity even after Spock left her to check on Suna. She slept soundly, sprawled out on her back, and he brushed a gentle finger across her chubby cheek. Then he did a double take, touching her forehead.

_Is she too hot?_

Belatedly realizing it was much warmer in the apartment than it had been when he first arrived, Spock glanced up at the thermometer.

_Ah. He simply set it too high._

Relieved, he corrected the temperature and returned to the table. Jim was setting out two bowls of soup for them and a small sausage pizza for himself. “What do you guys want to drink? Water? Milk? Tea?”

“Water will do, thank you.”

“Milk!”

“T’Lal.”

“I mean, please may I have some milk?”

Jim smiled. “Of course, kiddo.”

He returned with the drinks, keeping a soda for himself, and they tucked into their dinner. Jim slipped into old habits, keeping up a steady stream of conversation. T’Lal joined in, but Spock was content to sit in silence and just listen. For once, he did not have to contribute, nor did he have to rush through eating, nor did he have to get straight back to work when he finished.

It was the closest he had come to a sense of normalcy in quite some time.

If only it could have lasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ko-fu means daughter in Vulcan


	3. Delicate Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quick update! But be warned, this was the extent of the scenes I already knew how I wanted to tell, and I'm at the point where I'm piecing together scenes as I go along. I have plot points, I know the stories I want to tell, I just need to figure out individual scenes

Spock should not have been surprised when Jim had to spend the morning scrambling, cleaning up some last moment things and stuffing clothes and toiletries into a suitcase he had not yet packed. Spock took the time to shop, leaving his daughters at the apartment solely out of necessity, purchasing some clothes for himself and replenishing his supplies of what the children would need. When he returned with enough new items to fill a second, freshly purchased duffel bag, he and Jim worked together to dismantle and pack the crib.

Jim accidentally threw away the instructions. With his neighbor’s dire warning about the impossibility of constructing it echoing in his mind, Spock hoped they would not regret that.

“Daddy, I think Suna’s getting sick.”

Spock abandoned Jim to his attempt to shove the final leg into his suitcase, going to his daughters. T’Lal sat on the couch, holding her sister. As if sensing Spock’s renewed attention, she began to sniffle, her forehead scrunched up in distress. He picked her up and brushed a single finger lightly along her _qui’lari_, a simple touch Vulcan parents had used for centuries to ascertain an infant’s mental state and subsequently soothe them without initiating a full meld.

Alongside a blast of discomfort, Spock now felt for certain that her temperature had risen.

“Jim, she is right.”

With a triumphant little noise, Jim managed to zip his suitcase shut. “Is it bad?” he asked, coming over and touching her forehead. “She still feels cold to me.”

Spock tightened his grip on her and suppressed the urge to take a step back, uncomfortably reminded that he was suddenly without anyone who knew how to raise Vulcan children. “And yet, she is too warm for a Vulcan.”

Jim glanced up, suddenly looking uncomfortable himself. “Right,” he said, stepping back. “Bones can take a look at her. He probably knows more about Vulcan-human biology than anyone on the base.”

_Or anywhere._

Spock and his daughters were unique – miracles, his mother would have said. It was a miracle Spock was fertile, a miracle T’Pring had conceived so quickly, a miracle both girls had survived early births. Or perhaps they had not been early births, but normal for children with DNA that was seventy-five percent Vulcan and twenty-five percent human. Spock himself had been born early by Vulcan standards and late by human standards, but even if he were not the only one of his kind, he could not provide a reliable standard to judge his daughters against.

Doctor McCoy had always done his best, and while his best had kept Spock alive for nearly five years despite countless scrapes with death, the simple fact remained that no one had enough experience to really know what they were doing with his daughters’ health.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late,” Jim said, picking up the ergonomic baby carrier Spock had purchased. “Let’s figure out how to strap you two into this thing and get her to Bones.”

\-----

“I miss fresh air.”

Leonard’s declaration met the usual chorus of sighs and exchange of eye rolls. He crossed his arms defiantly, knowing that on some level they had to agree as they left the recycled air of the _Enterprise_ and entered the recycled air of the Yorktown. No matter how advanced the tech recycling the air was, it always had a stale quality compared to a humid Georgian day or a salty sea breeze or a brisk winter chill.

Of course, it didn’t help that his fear of space had resurged more than a bit over the last four years. Even as she sighed, Nyota rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly as he glanced at the “sky.” The designers had done what they could, but he could still see the outlines of each pane of transparent aluminum, a stark reminder that the only physical barrier between everyone on the base and imminent death was a bunch of glorified glass.

_God, I can’t wait to get back to Earth._

But first things first: Jim.

Planning to surprise him, Leonard, Nyota, Scotty, Pavel, Hikaru, Ben, and Demora had set up reservations at the base’s best brunch place and were now on their way to where Jim was supposed to beam up to the ship. As they all expected him to be late, Hikaru stretched up to give Ben a quick kiss on the cheek before he took their daughter to the restaurant to claim their seats.

“You’re going to see him again in a few minutes, Hikaru,” Pavel teased.

Hikaru shoved him lightly. “Hey, I couldn’t do that for years at a time until they moved onto the _Enterprise_. Wait until you get a wife you can’t kiss for that long.”

Pavel gave an exaggerated shudder. “Oh, ze _horror_.”

Hikaru shoved him again, laughing. “Shut up.”

“Play nice, boys,” Nyota scolded, putting absolutely no weight behind the words.

Scotty stretched up, peering over the crowd. “Is that him?”

Leonard followed his gaze, and sure enough, there he was. The crowd parted for a brief moment, just enough for him to glimpse Jim, his suitcase rolling behind him with a duffel bag on top, a second bag slung over his shoulders. He was looking down at something Leonard couldn’t see. “Yeah, that’s him all right.”

Nyota furrowed her brows. “Is he talking to someone?”

He certainly was. He smiled down at whatever – whoever – he was looking at, and that smile faded as he looked up to someone much closer to his height. The crowd was persistently thick with a group of very tall aliens, obscuring any of that person’s identifying features from view. Jim looked up, meeting Leonard’s eyes for the first time in a year and a half, and he immediately looked away, back to the person beside him. He rested a hand on their shoulder, saying something with an encouraging expression.

_I’ve got a bad feeling about this…_

They came closer.

The crowd parted.

Revealing Spock, a baby strapped to his chest, a girl by his side.

Nyota’s breath hitched, a tiny sound of surprise and despair and so much more. Her hold on Leonard’s shoulder tightened to a death grip, her eyes locked on Spock’s, his eyes equally locked on hers. His mouth opened slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Nyota’s mouth moved, struggling to do something, and Leonard thought she might’ve been trying to smile, even as tears filled her eyes.

Ultimately, without a word, she spun around and hurried back to the ship.

Spock ducked his head, ostensibly to tend to the infant as she let out a little cry, his finger brushing along what Leonard recognized as her psi points. The way his grip tightened on the girl’s hand, though, and the way he drew her closer to him spoke volumes as to why he actually wouldn’t look at them. The girl glared after Nyota; unseen by her, Jim cast her a worried look, reaching down to card his fingers through her hair.

Scotty was the first to find his voice. “Laddie!” he exclaimed, a grin splitting his face wide open. “Ye’ve got little’uns!”

His joy popped the tension like a dart popped a balloon. Spock seemed reassured by it, finding his voice to introduce them and relaxing his grip on the girls. T’Lal didn’t seem to share the sentiment, but nor did she glare at Pavel, Hikaru, and Scotty as they took their turns greeting her and Suna like she had at Nyota. Jim let out a relieved breath, watching the six of them.

Leonard pulled him aside a couple steps, dragging his confusion to the forefront of his mind to avoid the unbidden memories of Joanna surging to the surface. “Jim, you wanna tell me what the hell’s going on here?” he murmured.

Jim sighed. “His wife ditched them a month ago for being too human. There’s gotta be more he’s not telling me, but that’s all I’ve really been able to get out of him.”

_Damn Vulcans. _“I’ll see what I can do. When did they get here?”

“Yesterday.” Jim finally looked at him again, his eyes almost desperate. “I wasn’t hiding things again, Bones, I promise. Not like last time.”

At that, it wasn’t confusion drowning out memories of Joanna. “I know, kid,” he murmured, pulling him into a hug, wishing he could say more. “I know.”

Jim leaned into the hug as he always did, but Leonard could not reciprocate as he once had, and not just because the duffel bag on Jim’s back made it a bit difficult to find a comfortable way to hold him. He pulled back quickly, too quickly, and damn Jim and his sensitivity to changes in relationships, he noticed. He shuffled back a step, running a hand through his hair and looking back at the others.

Leonard wanted to say so many things. He wanted to say that it wasn’t Jim’s fault, that he had long since forgiven him for hiding that he was going to transfer off the _Enterprise_, that he knew why Jim had left and could never love him any less over it.

But then he would have to explain what _he _had been hiding for four years. And he couldn’t do that. It was better that Jim believe this was just about a single omission four and a half years ago.

Jim cleared his throat. “Spock.”

The recently single father looked up, and Jim nodded his head at Leonard. Looking a little apprehensive again, Spock said “Suna developed a slight fever this morning. Would you mind examining her?”

“Of course I’ll look at her,” Leonard answered, slipping into his patented tone for soothing anxious young parents. “You guys go to breakfast without us.”

Before Spock could move to follow, Jim caught him by the arm. “Maybe T’Lal should come eat with me and the others.”

Tension rippled through Spock, panic flashing in his eyes before he could hide it. “Jim…”

Jim just looked back with a gently persistent stare.

Finally, Spock relented, his fingers stuttering slightly as he released T’Lal’s hand. She didn’t look terribly thrilled about leaving her dad and sister, but she followed Jim without a verbal protest. Hikaru struck up a conversation with her as they left, telling the girl about his own daughter. Leonard just watched with narrowed eyes the way Spock’s hand closed into a fist, his entire body rigid with the tension of a parent who absolutely did want to lose sight of his child.

“Spock,” Leonard said slowly, “you’ll know exactly where she is. They won’t let her out of their sight.”

With visible conscious effort, Spock turned away from them. “Yes. Of course. Medbay?”

“Yeah. Medbay.”

After Jim handed over all of the luggage, explaining at Leonard’s grumbled complaint that he had pieces of Suna’s crib in his suitcase, Leonard led him back to the ship, relieved that most of the crew had left to relax on the base for a few hours, and that most of the remainder who recognized him were respectful enough not to aim lingering stares at Spock and his baby. Still, ducking into the privacy of the medbay, where Leonard knew for absolute certain that anyone on duty there would barely glance at Spock, was a relief. He told Spock to sit and unbuckle Suna while he dumped the bags and went to fetch a tricorder.

“She’s adorable,” Leonard said as he scanned her. “How old is she?”

“Three months.”

“Any medical history I should know about?”

Spock explained a few complications during her gestation and birth. “She also had a cold a month ago.”

He arched an eyebrow. “A cold? I thought Vulcans didn’t get those.”

“They do not. Humans do.”

Only decades of medical training kept Leonard from reacting to the sudden ice in his tone. _A month ago,_ he thought. _That was when his wife left._

_Damn Vulcans._

Finished with scanning Suna, Leonard tried to subtly angle the tricorder to scan her exhausted father. Spock, of course, saw straight through it. “Doctor.”

He sighed, putting the tricorder down. “You can’t blame a doctor for trying, Spock, you look like crap.”

“It is simply exhaustion,” he said firmly. “I will live.”

Leonard barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. _Damn stubborn patients. _“She does have a slight fever,” he confirmed, going to get a hypospray. “I don’t see anything else wrong at the moment, so I’ll just treat that.”

“Are you certain there is nothing more?”

Leonard cupped her head, tilting it with the utmost tenderness to expose the side of her neck. “For the _moment_,” he repeated with gentle emphasis, “yes, I’m sure. But knowing how you are with certain illnesses, I want to see her again tonight.”

She only let out the tiniest little babble at the feeling of the injection, a darn sight better than Jim’s insufferable whining. Spock was still quick to soothe her, showing her the same devoted affection Leonard had once shown Joanna. “We will return.”

Leonard squashed aside his pain, smiling at the brave little girl. “Good. In the meantime, I’m taking to your quarters and ordering you to get some rest.”

“I do not need-”

“Spock,” Leonard interrupted, “for once in your life, just listen to your kindly family doctor.”

“All right,” he relented. “I will rest.”

Leonard blinked, every sarcastic retort readied on the tip of his tongue falling away. Spock had just… given in… without a fight. Based on all prior experience, he had expected a lot more than _that_. “You know,” he broached carefully, “doctor-patient confidentiality goes beyond physical problems. And I know a little something about rough divorces with a kid caught in the middle.”

Spock stood, strapping Suna into her carrier and gathering up the luggage, his movements and voice stiff. “I believe I can find my way to the guest quarters alone, Doctor. Thank you for examining my daughter.”

He left without another word.

Leonard let him go with a heavy heart. He turned on his tricorder, glancing at the readings he had managed to take, but all they really told him was that Spock was exhausted and stressed. Just looking at the guy had told him that much. Besides, no tricorder could give him the information he _really_ needed.

His communicator beeped. “McCoy here.”

_“It’s Jim. T’Lal just wants to know how her sister’s doing.”_

“Just a little fever; she and Spock are heading to their quarters to rest.”

He heard voices, probably Jim relaying the message, and then, quietly, Jim asked _“Did he say anything? Anything he’ll let you tell me, at least?”_

Leonard sighed. “You can lead a horse to water, Jim, but you can’t make him drink.”

_“I figured. I guess… let’s just keeping leading him to water, then.”_

“Somehow, Jim, I think that’ll be easier said than done.”

_Especially if people keep running off mid-conversation._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things:  
1) God bless Montgomery Scotty.  
2) I promise Uhura will not be Like That. I will not portray either her, their past romance, or their current relationship in a negative light, just a strained one. I could never do her or them such an injustice. (On that note, nor do I view the actual T'Pring with this level of disdain, it was just easier than making up a character.)  
3) That little crack about Chekov's absent wife was my Jaylah-loving, Cheylah-shipping heart feeling so heckin GUILTY that this AU means she's still stranded on Altamid (I actually sank/ignored all 3 of my favorite AOS ships - Cheylah, Spuhura, and Kircus - in this just to inflict pain on Spock why am I like this)
> 
> Oh! And a fun little incorrect quote:  
Jim: You're smiling, did something good happen?  
T'Lal: Can't I smile just because I feel like it?  
Spock: T'Pring tripped and fell in the parking lot.


	4. Life's Like a Deconstructed Crib

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real quick, I just wanna thank all of you for support! It's been a little while since I was this passionate about a multi-chapter fic, and I'm glad you guys are enjoying it!

Nyota sat on her bed, absently strumming Spock’s old lyre. Her fingers found the notes instinctively, sounding out the old song of grief in her heart. She remembered their impromptu mess hall duets, remembered the way he had always known the type of song she wanted to sing after a single look, the way her voice and his lyre had always twined beautifully together in perfect sync, lifting even the crew’s darkest moods with ease.

What had happened to that seamless communication?

The door chime sounded. “Come in,” she called, continuing to strum quietly.

The music might be the only thing keeping her from truly falling apart.

Leonard stepped inside. He glanced up upon noticing the dim light level, but he said nothing, simply coming over and dropping into the chair he dragged over to her bed. “It’s been a damn day, hasn’t it?”

Despite herself, she had to chuckle at him. “Leonard, it’s still morning.”

“Is it?” He looked at the clock on her nightstand. “Damn.”

Nyota stilled her fingers, letting them slide down to rest over the note engraved on the instrument. “I shouldn’t have run off like that.”

“Ny, that was probably the best thing you could’ve done, given the situation.”

She shook her head. “Four years. I haven’t seen or talked to him in four years, and the first thing I do when I finally get the chance is run. What kind of message does that send, Len?”

“That you’re human,” Leonard answered. “You’re allowed to feel conflicted. I’d be concerned if you weren’t.”

Nyota sighed. Setting the lyre aside, she clasped her hands tightly together. “What about you?” she asked. “I know seeing Jim brings up unwanted memories.”

Leonard leaned back, crossing his arms. “He felt me holding back when we hugged. Now that we’ll be on the same ship for weeks… I don’t know, Ny. The kid’s a genius, he’s bound to figure it out eventually.”

“Would it be so bad if he did?” she asked gently. “It’s been affecting your friendship for years.”

He shook his head sharply. “He _can’t _know, Nyota, he _can’t_. He hates himself more than enough for thinking I’m like this because he lied for a few weeks. If he knew it was because I nearly died… No. It would destroy him.”

“It’s not his fault,” she pressed. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault.”

“_I _know that. Consciously, anyway. And so would he.” He took a deep breath that shuddered ever so slightly. “It’s our less controllable thoughts I’m worried about. I have my panic attacks, and he’ll blame himself. You know what he’s like.”

Nyota bit her lip. She did know all too well how responsible Jim felt for them, even though he was no longer their captain. “All right,” she relented, sensing that pushing any further would push Len into one of those panic attacks. “Let’s talk about something else.”

He nodded, sweeping his gaze around the room. It landed on the lyre. Clearing his throat, he said “I didn’t know you still had that.”

_That’s hardly any better a subject._ _But if it’ll distract him…_

She looked at it, her eyes drawn back to the note, etched in Vulcan script so tiny Nyota would need glasses to read it in a few decades. She had only met Spock’s mother once, but she could still hear it in her warm, charming laugh. _Happy birthday, my beautiful boy. I know, I know, that’s not logical, and Vulcans don’t celebrate those. Just go with it for your mother’s sake. I love you._

“It didn’t feel right to get rid of it,” she said. “It’s been hidden in the closet until today.”

His gaze flickered down. “And the necklace?”

She touched it through the fabric of her dress, her smile wry. “I never can seem to take it off.”

Leonard’s brows furrowed slightly, his eyes darkening. “Was that all he had left of his mother?”

“I think he has a holophoto he took with him to New Vulcan, but otherwise yes. Why?”

“Because it’s like he left his human half here,” he murmured. He flexed his right hand, looking at it as if it held answers he couldn’t quite reach. She watched him, trying to figure out what the significance of that hand was, but the only thing she could think of that might be applicable was that it was the same hand Spock had been using to hold his daughter’s hand.

“Len?”

He shook himself. “Never mind.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Len, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing.”

She leaned forward. “Len, is it about Spock?”

“Maybe.” At her look, he added “Ok, yes, but I’m not going to share it. I need to talk to him first when he’s feeling less defensive.”

Not quite satisfied, she let the matter drop anyway. “What are his kids’ names? I didn’t… get to ask.”

Leonard softened. “T’Lal and Suna. They’re cute.”

“They are,” she agreed, ducking her head, trying to hide her pain. “I guess I should meet them. Properly, I mean.”

Fabric rustled as Leonard stood and came over, the bed dipping beneath him as he sat beside her and started to rub her back a little. “I don’t think either one of you are up to that introduction right now.”

Abruptly, she lifted her head. “Wait, why aren’t you at brunch? Is everything all right?”

“The baby had a bit of a fever. And Spock is… He’s struggling. A lot.”

Nyota turned to see him better, concern shooting through her. “He’s not just visiting us, is he?”

“No.”

“Oh my God,” Nyota whispered, dropping her head again, scrubbing her hands over it and through her hair. “And I just _ran_.”

“Hey!” He caught her hands, cupping them together in his. “You can’t always take care of others before yourself, Nyota. You’re both hurting, and it wouldn’t do any good to pretend you’re not.”

She tried to pull her hands away, but he wouldn’t let her. “I shouldn’t _be _hurting. I knew why he wanted to leave, and I supported him when he did. I knew he would have kids, and that they wouldn’t be mine, that another woman would mother and raise them. I just- why didn’t he _tell _me, Len? Why did he stop talking to me?”

“I don’t know, Ny,” he murmured, pulling her into a hug. “I don’t know why he stopped talking to any of us.”

She didn’t want to be comforted. Or maybe she did. She wanted to scream and rage that the first man she had truly loved had cut her out of his life and how _dare _he walk right back into hers as if he hadn’t broken her heart. She wanted to run to him and hug him and never let go, to take away his pain and let hers melt away at his touch. She wanted- she wanted everything. And nothing. She didn’t know _what _she wanted.

She just knew it hurt.

So when Leonard hugged her, she didn’t let him or fight him. She just fell into it, fists clutching his shirt, face buried in his shoulder, and cried.

\-----

Spock leaned back against the wall, half asleep. He hadn’t meant to rest as McCoy had told him – he had just wanted to be left alone. The parts of Suna’s crib lay scattered around him, a few partially reconstructed, but then he started losing track of which screws went where, and the room was warm, and he was tired, and the order to the computer to dim the lights had just slipped out, and his eyelids were so heavy…

The door chime sounded. He jerked awake, starting to stand, smoothing his hair where the wall had ruffled it. “Come in.”

Scott entered, T’Lal in his arms. “Och, no, ye dinnae have to get up, laddie,” he whispered.

Spock sank back down. Something about the engineer had always put him at ease, always made him feel like he could relax and be human when even Nyota could not coax his walls down. “Is she asleep?”

Scott picked his way carefully through the crib parts and to the second bedroom. “Aye. The restaurant had a playground for the wee ones, and Demora ran the lassie ragged. I daresay Demora was ready to ask one of her daddies to carry her home too.”

Spock couldn’t hold back a tiny smile – she had never been able to run and play until she was exhausted, especially not with a friend. “I hope she behaved herself.”

“She was a gem,” Scott promised, tucking her into the bottom bunk of the room’s bunkbed and closing the door. He picked his way back through the crib debris to plop down beside Spock. “She’s got spunk, that one. Reminds me of her dad.”

He snorted faintly. “I have no spunk, Mr. Scott.”

“I think you’re forgetting what happened we first met.”

Spock conceded the point with a weary tip of the head. “Then I have no spunk anymore.”

“Laddie,” Scott started, gentle but firm, “I’ve seen that same spunk in you every day since that fight. Now, sometimes you’re real good at hiding it beneath that Vulcan exterior of yours, but it’s always there. Spunk like that doesn’t disappear just because you’re tired. It’s just a little harder to reach, is all.”

He picked up a pair of crib pieces, held together only by a half-screwed screw. “I could not even assemble a crib.”

“That’s what family’s for, Spock.” Scott took the pieces, found the screwdriver, finished the job, and held up the firmly attached pieces. Spock took them back, turning them over in his hands. “Ye cannae tell me you’ve forgotten everything we tried to teach you on the subject.”

“I have not,” he allowed. “But… I did stop using it.”

“Och, you’re here, aren’t ya? You knew exactly where to go when things got rough. Ye might’ve let other things slip, but I’d say that’s a darn good start to rebuilding those bridges.”

Spock looked up at him. “You do not seem bitter that I stopped calling.”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, laddie, that did hurt,” Scott admitted. “But I figure ye must’ve had your reasons.”

Spock’s gaze flickered to his daughters. Then to his holophoto of his mother on the nightstand, out on display for the first time in four years.

“Besides, you’re back now,” he went on. “That’s what matters in my book. I daresay you look like you’ve been punished more than enough for any mistakes.”

“It was not all punishment," Spock evaded.

If Scott realized he was avoiding the subject - and he surely did - he didn't show it, simply smiling in response. “Aye, of course not. Now, speaking of those wee angels, what do you say we build a crib?”

He furrowed his brows. “You are not going to insist I rest?”

“I know how ye hate feeling like a burden,” he said, plucking a piece and a screw off the floor. “Besides, you oughta learn how to do this yourself.”

“Jim threw away the instructions.”

He waved a dismissive hand, squinting at another piece. “I’ve helped my sister build these things a time or two. Starfleet’s best engineer and a Vulcan oughta be able to figure this out without instructions.”

Spock pushed off the wall, reaching for his own piece. “One would think so.”

He hadn’t been trying to be funny, but Scott laughed anyway.

\-----

Craig was waiting for Jim when they returned from brunch. “Mind if I steal him away for a bit?” he asked the others, throwing his arm around Jim’s shoulders. Jim waved as they left, smiling at the way Demora stumbled tiredly between her dads, her hair mussed and clothes dirtied, both men hurrying to steady her; T’Lal had already passed out in Scotty’s arms before they finished brunch. Nine-year-old humans and three-year-old Vulcans were perfectly designed to exhaust each other, as it turned out.

“Cute kids,” Craig remarked, keeping one arm slung around Jim’s shoulders as he led him to the turbolift. “I regret not having any of my own. What about you? You ever think about having any?”

Jim shrugged as they entered the turbolift. “Maybe. I was busy with my crew, though, and… it hasn’t really felt like the right timing since.”

He nodded absently. “Look, Jim, I’m gonna be honest: I don’t just want to catch up on this trip.”

Jim furrowed his brows. “What does that mean?”

The turbolift came to a halt, the doors sliding open. Craig led him out across the bridge. Jim recognized most of the crew, exchanging nods and smiles with them before they went into the captain’s ready room, Jim’s feet instinctively tracing the path he had worked out years ago to weave between the stations and bustling people without bumping into anyone or anything. Craig sat at his desk, picking up a PADD that had been left for him, and with a feeling of profound weirdness, Jim sat on the other side and did nothing but wait for him to be free to continue.

“I have a confession to make,” he said when he finally set the PADD down. “I’ve been considering a career change.”

“Really?” Jim exclaimed. “But you’re an amazing captain.”

“Agreed,” he joked. “I joined Starfleet straight out of high school and dedicated every waking moment to becoming captain, and I'm proud of that. But I’m a scientist at heart, Jim, and sitting in that chair out there, I don’t get to be that. I have to be a leader, and regulation demands I sit back and let my people do all the science work. A younger me was enthralled by the idea of being captain, but I’m getting greyer by the year now, and I think my ego will finally let me prioritize personal satisfaction over glory and renown.”

“Ah. Well, I wish you luck.”

“Thanks, but that’s not why I’m telling you this.” He leaned forward, steepling his fingers together, and suddenly Jim knew exactly where this was going. “Jim, I think you should replace me.”

“Craig, I’ve been down this road before. I left it.”

“I know, but can you honestly tell me you’re happy about it?” he challenged. “You were always chomping at the bit back then, just the right sort of reckless that landed your captaincy in the history books from your first mission. A man like you wasn’t meant to be chained to a desk.”

“That was nearly a decade ago,” Jim pointed out. “I’ve grown too.”

“You didn’t answer if you were happy.”

Jim searched for the words to explain that he was, but he couldn’t find them. Even if he had, he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to say them.

_“Ensign Palmer to Captain Terrell.”_

“Yes, Palmer, what is it?”

_“We’re receiving new orders from Starfleet, sir. There’s been some trouble along the Romulan Neutral Zone – we’re to report there immediately.”_

“All right. See to recalling the crew. Terrell out.”

Craig sighed, bracing his palms on the table as he stood. “Well, Jim, looks like our trip to Earth will be a bit delayed.”

“Damn. I was hoping to surprise Mom for her birthday.”

Craig clapped him on the shoulder on his way out. “Think about what I said!”

Jim pursed his lips, hoping that hid how his heart leapt at the idea of going on his first real mission in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Romulans!! Just what everybody needs right now, am I right my dudes?


	5. Illnesses of the Mind and Body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not abandon this! (I've even gone to the effort of adding chapter titles, which I never do, to show how much I love this fic.) It was a combo of untrustworthy vacation internet, laptop issues, and writing ahead. I've actually gotten to chapter 11 - I've always worked through plots better by writing things out than making outlines - which means I've got regular weekly updates prepared now! You guys can savor the fic while I enjoy causing angst :)

_Damn Romulans. Damn the damn Romulans to hell and back._

One trip. He had just wanted this one damn trip to go smoothly. Sure, he could control the anxiety well enough during an emergency when he had patients who needed him, but the _waiting_, that would kill him. Waiting to be attacked, waiting for Jim to inevitably get himself hurt somehow, waiting for literally anything to go horribly, catastrophically wrong as it usually did when they were ordered to take unexpected detours to potentially dangerous space.

He slammed down his bin of empty hyposprays onto the shelf with accidental unnecessary force. He knew that, but all he could do was clutch the bin with bruising force, trying to keep his hands from shaking. He couldn’t even stand straight. All he could do was hunch over the damn bin and try to suck some damn air past the damn terror blocking his damn throat-

“Doctor?”

The gentle voice and a hand on his back broke through the terror like an anchor. He grabbed onto the comfort like a lifeline, using it to suck in a breath and push himself upright. “M’Benga,” he rasped.

“I’m right here, sir.”

Gradually, Leonard calmed down, enough to realize that the other doctor had angled his body to shield him from the view of the rest of the staff. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

It wasn’t the first time the younger man had helped him through an attack, resting a supportive hand on his back and talking to him in his deep, soothing voice, and it shouldn’t have been a shameful thing. Plenty of people had panic attacks, and Leonard had coached a fair number of people through them, from complete strangers to Jim. He just… he felt so damn _vulnerable_ when he was supposed to be the strong one, both as a chief medical officer and one of the oldest amongst the command crew he called his family. _He _was the caretaker, _not_ the patient. But these days, he fell apart in public at the mere thought of impending danger.

“Are you feeling better, sir?” M’Benga asked quietly.

Leonard nodded, forcing himself to let go of the bin. “Yes, Doctor. Thank you.”

M’Benga smiled, giving him one last pat before returning to his duties. Leonard crossed his arms, glancing around at his staff self-consciously, and decided that retreating to his office to work on the paperwork he’d been avoiding for days was probably a good idea right now.

Until the medbay doors opened, admitting a patient Leonard definitely had to look at himself.

“Welcome back, Spock,” he greeted, swiping the nearest tricorder. M’Benga shot him a glance, a silent question, and he shook his head once. “How is she?”

He had opted to carry her in his arms this time, and as she let out a cry, tear tracks already staining her cheeks, Leonard understood why. He tried running his finger over her psi points, but that did nothing to quiet her, and Leonard thought he might’ve even seen Spock wince at the attempt. “She is worse,” he answered unnecessarily. “Her temperature has risen, and she would not finish her last bottle.”

Leonard frowned, running a more in-depth scan. The medicine he had given her earlier had always done wonders for Spock’s fevers. He either needed to increase the dose, or… _Well, that didn’t show up earlier. _“Can you get her sister, please? I’d like to get some scans of her to use as a baseline. In the meantime, I want to keep her for observation and run some blood tests.”

“What is wrong?” Spock asked, tightening his grip on her.

“I don’t know yet,” Leonard said gently. It wasn’t the entire truth – a theory was forming – but he didn’t want to alarm Spock just yet if he turned out to be wrong. “I’m just being cautious and gathering as much information as I can. That’s what we scientists do, right?”

With a hesitant nod, Spock let him take Suna. Leonard scooped her gently into his arms, concerned at how hot she really did feel. Spock held her tiny hand for a moment, letting her squeeze his finger, before forcing himself to pull away and turn to the door.

Only to turn right back around. “Doctor, are you all right?”

Leonard looked up sharply. “Of course I am. Why?”

Spock opened his mouth, hesitated, then shook his head. “My apologies. I must be unaccustomed to emotions after my years on New Vulcan.”

“Yeah. Must be.”

_Great. Now I’m lying to both of them about this._

He swallowed down the guilt, heading over to the biocrib Nurse Kavanaugh was setting up against the wall. She had joined his staff shortly after Jim left, fresh out of school and terrified of disappointing her new boss, everything from her formal wording to her ginger hair tucked into regulation perfection. Now she was one of his most capable nurses, the only one who knew what Leonard wanted before he said a word – a skill that could sometimes be rather eerie – and relaxed in the self-confidence that shone in her intelligent green eyes, though her hairstyle still never seemed to change from that simple ponytail she’d had when he first met her.

Leonard laid Suna down in the biocrib as Kavanaugh plugged it into the wall, activating both it and the monitor above. “All right, sweetheart, let’s see what’s going on with you,” he murmured, watching information gather on the screen. “I really hope you’re just taking after Jim and being a drama queen about something tiny.”

He didn’t know if it was his doctor’s instinct or father’s intuition that told him she wasn’t.

\-----

Spock threw one last look over his shoulder as he left medbay. He meant to look only at Suna, to reassure himself that she was in the best hands for the task, but McCoy caught his attention. This time, Spock was certain he saw something in his expression. It was brief, but it was there. He could not pin down what it was at this moment, but he knew something was amiss with the normally steadfast doctor.

_It would appear I am not the only one keeping secrets._

Setting the matter aside for later, he strode into the turbolift, very nearly pressing the button to head to his old quarters before remembering to head to his current guest quarters. He pressed the appropriate button, letting his hand linger over the panel, the familiar hum of the ship hovering around him.

During their years serving together, he had found Jim and Scott’s love for the _Enterprise _rather illogical. It was a ship – mechanical, replaceable, unimportant in the grand scheme of things. It did not have the gender they constantly ascribed to it, let alone the personality they always insisted it had. It was nothing more than a tool – a very complicated, vital one to their survival, yes, but still a spacefaring tool. Nothing more, nothing less.

And yet, standing here now, surrounded by the sights and sounds that were inextricably linked to the one period of his life when he had been truly happy, he conceded that perhaps they had had a point when they said the _Enterprise_ was more of a home to them than any planet ever had been.

Pain shot through his head.

He grimaced, pressing a hand to his temple. _Not now. Please, not now._

The only response to his silent plea was another stab of pain.

The turbolift slid to a halt, and the soft _whoosh _of the opening doors may as well have been a clap of thunder. The lighting, dimmed now to a nighttime setting, felt like staring into a sun even through eyelids clamped shut. Forcing them open a crack, he stumbled out of the turbolift, planting his other hand on the wall to hold himself up. Through more stabs of pain, he tried a meditative breathing technique that had worked in the past.

But that had been in a dark room with his father beside him, coaching him through it.

“Spock!”

He flinched from her voice, and she lowered her volume significantly. “Spock, what’s wrong?”

“It… will pass,” he ground out. “Just need… to breathe.”

“Ok,” she said, slipping her hand beneath the hand he had been pressing against his temple with bruising force. He clutched her instinctively, leaning into her familiar warmth. “It’s ok, I’ve got you,” she soothed, rubbing his back. “I’ve got you.”

Slowly, the pain subsided, enough for Spock to consciously realize just who had shown up. Still, he could not quite make himself let go of her hand. “Thank you,” he mumbled, leaning against the wall.

“Of course,” Nyota said. Awkwardly, she let her hand slide off his back, though she too did not let go of his hand. “What was that?”

For a moment, he considering trying to evade the question, but she looked nothing but concerned for his health, and it would have to come out sooner or later. “A consequence of breaking my bond with T’Pring.”

Nyota swallowed a little at the mention of his former wife, but when he pushed off the wall to continue to his quarters, she kept a hold on him, steadying him. “I know breaking a bond is emotionally painful, but that wasn’t emotional.”

He shook his head, immediately regretting the movement as it exacerbated the residual headache. “It is an extremely rare reaction.”

They reached his quarters. Thankfully, the _whoosh _of the door was much more tolerable this time, though Jim’s exclamation of his name was not. He hurried over, bracing Spock’s other side, and together the two humans guided him to sit on the edge of his bed, sitting down on either side of him.

He tried to push through it, knowing how they would fuss over something they could not fix. “We must take T’Lal to the doctor.”

“Spock, we’re not going anywhere until you explain what it was that I just saw,” Nyota said.

“You.”

They all looked up to see T’Lal coming out of the bathroom. She crossed her arms, the anger in her voice matched by the anger in her eyes as she glared at Nyota. Jim and Spock exchanged a glance, his look full of apprehension, while Nyota quickly let go of Spock as she tried to smile at the girl. “Hi. T’Lal, right?”

T’Lal continued glaring. “You hurt my daddy.”

“T’Lal, it is not like that-” Spock began.

Nyota stood, clearing her throat. “Maybe I should go.”

“Nyota-”

“That might be best right now,” Jim said.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Nyota said, trying and failing to smile at Spock. She hurried out of the room. Spock stood, taking a step after her, but he stopped, held back by remembering that his daughter needed him.

“Come,” he said, holding out his hand for T’Lal. Jim looked like he wanted to protest like Nyota had, to insist he rest and explain, but he ultimately remained silent. “Doctor McCoy wishes to see you.”

“Why?” she asked, seeming to forget her anger for the moment. “Is Suna going to be ok?”

“He does not know. He wishes to scan you to get a better idea of a baseline for a healthy individual with your genetic makeup to further inform him on Suna’s illness.”

T’Lal nodded, letting him take her hand. “Is Jim coming?” she asked.

“Do you want me to?” Jim asked Spock.

“I would appreciate that, yes.”

Jim smiled, looking relieved. “Sweet. Let’s go bug Bones.”

T’Lal furrowed her brows. “Why would we do that?”

“Because it’s fun. Clearly.”

Spock saw the glint of mischief in T'Lal's eye far too late to have a hope of stopping it. She pulled away from Spock and bounced up to Jim’s side. “What’s the best way to bug him?”

“Well,” Jim started, scooping her up, “there’s this one thing I always do…”

Spock trailed two steps behind them, pleased to see T’Lal bonding with another adult even as his heart twinged at the loss of her sole adoration. He glanced up as the thought crossed his mind, looking towards medbay and his ill daughter.

_I only hope I get the time to experience the same loss with her sister._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Bones have a panic attack is. A unique kind of pain. In my probably 7ish years of writing Trek fic, I've written Jim and Spock falling apart quite a bit, but never Bones because, as I had him point out, he's the strong one. He's the caretaker that doesn't fall apart. I've entertained the idea of writing him falling apart when he nearly lost Jim and Spock in Beyond, but I never got around to it until now aND IT H U R T S ME


	6. A Guide to Healing the Kiddos, Told by Hikaru Sulu and Leonard McCoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to clarify: In this AU, only the first 12 minutes of Beyond happened. Everything up through Spock learning about Ambassador Spock's death is the same, but it diverges at that point. Nothing related to Krall or Altamid happened, which is why Jim and Spock didn't resolve their issues 4.5 years ago and still left the Enterprise. Sorry for any confusion.

Nyota didn’t consciously decide to go anywhere. She just hurried to the turbolift, hit a button, and exited the moment it stopped. Her feet carried her down the corridor and chose when and where she stopped. It was only when the door didn’t open automatically for her that she took a look around and realized she was outside not her quarters, but the Sulus’.

_Of course._

Hikaru had gone through a similar situation with Demora when he and Ben met after he and her mother got divorced. They were a loving family now, but it had been a rough transition for the girl.

She pressed the doorbell, entering when Ben called. “Nyota!” he said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. Demora’s just setting the table – would you like to join us?”

“No, thank you,” she said, warmed by the invitation nonetheless. “I was wondering if I could borrow Hikaru for a few minutes?”

“I’ll go get him.” He searched her expression. “Is something the matter?”

“Yes. It’s… well, I just had a little run-in with T’Lal.”

“Ah,” he said, understanding washing over him. “Borrow my husband for as long as you need, then.”

“I’ll have him back by midnight,” Nyota joked.

Laughing, Ben went to fetch him.

Hikaru came promptly out of the kitchen, drying his hands off with a towel. “What’s wrong, Nyota?”

She gestured at the door. “Can we…?”

He dropped the towel, stepping out with her. “Yeah, let’s go.”

She let him lead the way to the observation deck. They leaned on a windowsill beside each other, elbows not quite brushing. There, watching the stars rush by in brilliant, beautiful streaks of light, Nyota spoke. “T’Lal hates me.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Nyota arched an eyebrow. “That’s very supportive.”

He chuckled, but his words were sober. “I saw the way she looked at you when you ran off – which was totally understandable to the rest of us, by the way, just not to her. She’s been hurt a lot by- well, by her whole life, really. There’s been a lot of anger and pain packed into three short years.”

“Because of who she is?”

“Because of who her father is.” His tone carried the same bitterness all their tones did when they talked about how Vulcans treated Spock. “The emotional human who chose Starfleet over his people. Funny, isn’t it, how they only call him Vulcan when they want to blame him for that.”

She couldn’t find the strength to attempt even the most mirthless of laughs. She just closed her eyes, hiding her face in her hands. “I always knew that any kids Spock may have would struggle in some way, but T’Lal was so _angry_.”

“She’s protective of her father,” Hikaru said. “Pav made the mistake of cracking a tiny joke that she misinterpreted as belittling Spock, and she reacted pretty strongly. She calmed down and apologized when we explained, but that right there tells you a lot about what New Vulcan was like for them.”

“And when I ran, she just interpreted it as me not wanting to be around him at all.”

Hikaru nodded. “The last time she saw a woman run off on Spock, it was her mother abandoning them for being too human. Based on that, maybe you abandoned him for being too Vulcan. All she wants is for people to stop hurting him, and she saw you do just that.”

“God, I really messed this up, didn’t I?” Nyota groaned.

“You did,” Hikaru said, making her let out the most strained laugh of her life. “But not necessarily forever.”

Nyota turned her head to look at him, grabbing the hope he offered like a lifeline in a storm. “How do I fix this?”

“Well, first things first, you have to explain the situation to her,” he said. “T’Lal wants a family. She wants people who will accept and love her and her father and her sister, and she wants to find that in us. I saw that very clearly at lunch, but she has very little experience to base her judgments of us on. Hell, I don’t know how many humans she’s even met, so probably the only person she’s ever really had to teach her about emotions is Spock, and, well, we know how awkward he is with those even on his most human days. As far as she knows, everyone who leaves her dad like that hates him.”

“I could never hate Spock.”

It was pointless, but Nyota felt the need to say it.

“I know,” Hikaru said gently. “We all do. You just have to convince _her_ of that. And then you wait for her to come around.”

“Wait,” she echoed. “For how long?”

He shrugged. “For as long as it takes. It took Demora a year to fully accept me as her new dad.”

“And Ben and her mother didn’t even have a nasty divorce,” Nyota sighed.

“No. But, to be fair, I think that was part of her problem: She didn’t understand why her parents split because there was very little arguing and they’re still friends. They just slowly fell out of love, and she was too young to really see that happening. It took her a while to see the difference between Ben and her mother’s relationship and my relationship with Ben. That day she finally accepted me was worth every second, though.”

“I can imagine.” She dropped her forehead against the window. “You know, I do want kids. I wanted them with Spock. I just wasn’t ready for pregnancy, and when he got the news about Ambassador Spock, he didn’t want to wait anymore. I guess I’ll be helping raise his kids anyway.”

Hikaru looked at her curiously. “How do you want them to see you?” he asked. “Family friend? Aunt? Or mother?”

“_Not_ mother,” she said. “That chapter of our lives is over.”

“You never did try dating again,” he pointed out gently.

“I’m a busy woman.”

“A busy woman who used to be telepathically bonded to the first and only man she’s ever loved. It’s not a bad thing, Nyota, to take so long to move on from something like that. Besides,” he added with a suggestive waggling of his eyebrows, “he’s available again.”

Nyota smacked him. “He’s not looking for love right now, Hikaru.”

“Neither are you,” he said, rubbing his arm with a pouty expression. “Maybe that’s because you’ve both already found the love you need.”

“Hikaru-”

“Look, I know he had his reasons for leaving, and that it hurt when he did,” he said. “You bonded with him to save him from his _pon farr_, and he broke that only eight months later. I’m not saying you should let him off the hook for that immediately, cause if Ben did that, I might want to kill him. But… Spock did come back, Nyota. And that look on his face when he saw you… I think he has his reasons for that too.”

“Thank you for the advice on T’Lal,” she said, pushing off the windowsill, “but Spock and I are a thing of the past. We can be friends, nothing more.”

_He’s hurt me too much for me to be able to put myself back in that position. Not without a damn good reason._

Hikaru dipped his head. “Ok. If you need to talk again, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled, waving goodbye before returning to his husband and daughter.

Nyota hesitated at the thought of returning to her quarters to eat alone.

\-----

Jim sat on a biobed, legs stretched out and loosely crossed, and loudly crunched on his apple. Spock didn’t look at him, his attention fixed unwaveringly on his daughter, but Jim could still see his utter weariness at the noise. “What? I haven’t had dinner.”

“Perhaps you could chew quietly. And with your mouth closed.”

Jim took another deafening bite. “Table manners don’t really apply when there’s no table, wouldn’t you say?”

Spock looked like he was seriously considering running back to the Vulcans. Or perhaps trying to kill him again.

“Relax, I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” Jim said, making sure to chew quietly and swallow before he spoke.

Spock looked only slightly reassured. “The mood will not be lightened until I know what is wrong with my daughter.”

“All right, then, let’s talk about something serious: What happened to you on the way back to your quarters?”

That was the first thing since they’d gotten to medbay that made Spock’s gaze waver from Suna. It was a tiny flicker, but still a flicker. “I had a headache.”

“A headache,” Jim repeated. “A headache made Uhura forget the issues between you and made you look like you were ready to pass out in her arms like some damsel in distress.”

Spock pursed his lips. “Yes.”

“Bull.”

“Vulcans do not lie, Jim.”

“But they do omit certain critical details. Like, say, when you told Khan that the torpedoes were his but kept his crew and blew up the _Vengeance_ with said torpedoes.”

He tipped his head to concede the point. “It was not your typical headache,” he allowed. “But it was a headache.”

“Spock, you have _kids _now. You can’t just run around ignoring your health.”

Spock set his jaw. “I am not ignoring my health. There is simply nothing that can be done.”

“Wait, what? What’s this about ignoring Spock’s health?”

Bones came up to them, tricorder in hand, casting a clinical look over Spock. Jim crunched on his apple pointedly. Spock glanced between them, shoulders slumping slightly as he found himself quite literally caught between them, penned in by Bones and a pair of biobeds, his back to the wall. “Tell me about my daughter first,” Spock tried.

“Her blood tests come back in a few minutes,” Bones said. “I’ll have something definitive to tell you then.”

Spock looked around, searching for a way out, but no one and nothing offered him one. “It is a side effect of breaking my bond with T’Pring,” he finally said.

“Your telepathic bond? I remember the havoc that wreaked on Nyota; she was on mood stabilizers for months.”

Guilt flashed briefly through Spock’s eyes. “The side effect I suffer from is significantly rarer and physically painful.”

Bones activated the tricorder, running it over him, and Spock eyed it but didn’t protest. “My scans aren’t reading anything.”

“It would only be readable during an attack.”

“An attack of _what_?”

“A brief but quite intense headache,” Spock elaborated reluctantly. “Sometimes, even when it is by mutual agreement, the breaking of the bond can leave physical damage in the brains of both parties. It results in occasional debilitating headaches.”

“Is there a treatment for this?” Jim asked.

“No. It is quite rare, and thus there is little research on the subject. Every case has eventually corrected itself, but the majority took years or even decades to do so.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna work for me,” Bones said. He left, returning a minute later with a small circular device that he affixed to Spock’s neck just below the corner of his jaw. “That’s a cortical monitor. When you get your next attack, I’ll get a notification, and I want you to come in and we’ll look over the readings.”

“Doctor-”

“Spock, I don’t give a crap what you say, I’m gonna look into devising a treatment, even if that just amounts to finding a way to make the individual headaches less painful until they do stop on their own. This is the solution that doesn’t require you to stay in medbay until you suffer another attack.”

“I suppose I will allow it,” Spock said grudgingly.

“Good, cause you don’t have a choice.”

“As the patient, I have the right to refuse treatment.”

“As the only one with common sense amongst this little trio of ours, I have the right to force some of that sense onto you.”

“You are not the only one with common sense-”

“Doctor, Suna’s blood tests have come back,” a nurse said, offering a PADD to Bones.

“Thank you, Kavanaugh, and yes, Spock, I am,” Bones said, taking it and scanning the results. Jim and Spock both leaned forward, trying to see for themselves, and he just angled the PADD to hide it from them. “Have you double-checked these?”

“And triple-checked, sir. They’re accurate.”

“Ok,” Bones murmured, and Jim couldn’t tell through his doctor’s poker face how bad the news was. “Go make sure her sister is recovering from the blood draw, please. Offer her a lollipop. Make sure it’s sugar-free.”

With a nod, Kavanaugh returned to the girls.

“You never give _me _a lollipop.”

“You’re not three, Jim.”

“My age _starts _with a three.”

“Could we perhaps save the banter for a different time?” Spock interjected drily.

“Sorry.”

Bones sobered, rereading the PADD once more. “First off, it’s treatable. It’ll take some experimenting, but so long as I have anything to say about it, she’ll live a long, happy life. Or a long Vulcan life. Whatever she chooses.”

“But?” Spock pressed. Behind his back, he was clasping his hands together in a white-knuckled grip.

“But she’ll be undergoing treatment for the rest of her life,” Bones said, handing the PADD over to Spock. He pried his hands apart to take it, swiping through the charts for himself. “It looks like she’s got an autoimmune disease – the first of its kind. It’s presenting similarly to vasculitis, but it’s her Vulcan cells attacking her blood’s human components.”

Jim looked at the PADD over Spock’s shoulder. “Is T’Lal ok?”

“I think she’s fine,” he answered. “I’m running some more tests on her to see if we can see if the condition is lying dormant somewhere, but she’s not showing any symptoms, so the most we can really do is monitor her and keep her thoroughly vaccinated against uniquely human illnesses.”

Spock furrowed his brows. “She has a Vulcan immune system.”

“A _mostly _Vulcan immune system,” Bones pointed out. “Suna’s got the same setup and she’s already caught a cold.”

“Wait, is that what caused this? A _cold_?”

“Maybe.” He took the PADD back. “It’s possible her immune system recognized it as something Vulcans just don’t catch, and then it got confused and started looking to eradicate everything human it could find, and her blood components have been fighting each other ever since.”

“Why have I never had a similar illness?”

“Maybe because you’re equally half and half, your human and Vulcan components can keep each other in check before it ever becomes a real problem,” Bones guessed with a shrug. “The truth is, we still don’t quite understand what triggers autoimmune diseases. Even if we did, second-generation hybrids are extremely rare, so they could have an entirely different vulnerability to them that we just don’t have the data to study.”

“So any child I may have would be susceptible to this illness.”

“Unless you find another half-human Vulcan to mother them, yeah.” Bones rested a hand on Spock’s shoulder. “It’s treatable. Now that we know it’s a potential issue, we’ll know to monitor T’Lal for it. They’ll be _fine_.”

Spock took a breath and straightened his shoulders. “What is the treatment plan?”

“Well, first we have to get her symptoms under control, and then we have to work on preventing new flareups later…”

Keeping his hand on Spock’s shoulder, Bones guided him back to the girls. T’Lal was sucking on a green lollipop, watching her sister sleep. Jim let all of his hidden tension out in a huff of air, slumping back against the wall. _They’ll be fine._

_Well. So long as the Romulans don’t kill us all, anyway._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical bs? In my fanfic? It's more likely than you think!! (And this is not the last of it.) Yeah I did the bare minimum of research and also I'm working with fictional alien biology so I hope that made sense
> 
> Anyways! It was fun getting to mess around with the Ben and Sulu backstory a bit (we got so little of them in Beyond but I Love Them), and now you can pry the headcanon that Ben is bi from my cold, dead, bisexual hands
> 
> Last but not least: I finished writing the final chapter last night! The current chapter count stands at 15, but I might do some reorganizing and whatnot as I edit, so I won't make it final just yet. I might shift this to two updates a week now that I'm done


	7. Midnight in Medbay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad I didn't make the chapter count official, cause it changed within a few days. That's why I didn't start the twice weekly postings this week, I had to write a whole new chapter and then make sure this one and that one wouldn't contradict each other. Hopefully next week though! (I've been saying this for like two weeks though so who even knows at this point)
> 
> Also I literally have five (5) sequel ideas for this. Not counting ideas I've had for when the girls are all grown up. Idk if I'll ever write any of them, but. They exist. And I'll probably have more because my brain Will Not Stop. (If you want hints: The first two are based on one of T'Pol's plotlines from Enterprise, the third is inspired by the few Star Trek 4 plot details we got before that got shelved, the fourth isn't based on anything and would focus on T'Lal's childhood BFF/future wife, and the fifth would be this AU's version of Beyond. This would all span the next like 6 years.)

Leonard sat on a biobed in the middle of the night, fighting off sleep as he watched Spock feed Suna on the neighboring bed. He had wanted to insist Spock go with Jim and T’Lal back to his quarters to sleep, but Suna was evidently going to get worse before she got better, developing a rash along her arms as her fever crept slightly higher. The fever had since stabilized, but only Spock had been able to convince her to eat anything. Besides, medbay was the best place for him to be in case he suffered another attack.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about this side effect of yours?” he asked.

“Only that it is most inconvenient.”

Leonard huffed. “I can imagine. But come on, you Vulcans have to have a _theory_. A trigger, a therapy, something.”

He considered for a moment. “There is only one true link that has ever been observed between those afflicted. It happens across genders, ages, provinces, and sexualities, but in each case, at least one party has broken at least one other bond within the last seven years.”

“This is happening because you were bonded with Nyota?”

“It is likely, yes.”

Leonard took a moment to study his old friend. He looked more relaxed than he had all day. Still too tense, but the weight of not knowing why his daughter was sick had been lifted from his shoulders, and the familiar routine of bickering with him and Jim aboard the _Enterprise_ seemed to have reminded him of the olden days when he knew how to freely be human. Deciding to take a chance, he broached quietly “Spock… T’Pring didn’t do this on purpose, did she?”

“No.”

The response was immediate and firm, yet not defensive, but Leonard couldn’t dismiss the signs he’d seen. “Are you sure?”

“In every pairing where both parties were alive after the severance, no matter if both parties wanted it wholly and without reservation, it afflicted both members with equal pain and intensity. We had discussed the issue of possibly divorcing before, and while the odds of suffering this condition were extremely slim, we agreed to treat the seven years as a trial period during which we could not separate.”

He didn’t miss the way Spock’s tone hardened towards the end. “I don’t suppose there’s any particular reason she agreed to wait?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“She agreed because, in her opinion, my human half greatly increased the chances of our suffering. And she was right.”

“She was _not_,” Leonard said firmly. “I’ve scanned and been saved by that brain a million times, Spock. Your telepathy is just as powerful as any pure Vulcan’s, and your intelligence just as high.”

He looked away. “I have let my discipline fade. Perhaps that-”

“Discipline has nothing to do with it,” Leonard interrupted. “You just said that: This has happened to all sorts of pure Vulcans long before it ever happened to you.” When Spock just shot him a dubious look, he pushed on. “What if you were wholly Vulcan, Spock, and you had married T’Pring like you were supposed to, and she died when Vulcan was destroyed, and you and your second wife broke your bond within seven years? Can you tell me with absolute certainty that you wouldn’t have been afflicted by this in that scenario?”

“…No,” he conceded.

“Exactly,” Leonard said. “Look, Spock, as someone who is both your friend and your doctor, I know that your human half makes you different from most Vulcans. You need a bit more sleep than most Vulcans. Your first _pon farr_ hit a bit later than most Vulcans. Hell, you’ve even considered growing a beard, though I still do _not _recommend that. Not to mention that you actually know how to smile and love, among other things. But none of that makes you _weak_. You’re no more or less susceptible to Vulcan illnesses than anyone else.”

Spock closed his eyes, leaning his head back. “I know this,” he said. “Logically, I know this. But that is not how T’Pring ever made it sound.”

Now it was Leonard’s turn to look away, crossing his arms. “Knowing is something, at least. We can work on believing.”

“Now you are the one avoiding things.”

“What?” Leonard forced himself to look at Spock, who of _course _had looked up from Suna just in time to see him look away. “No I’m not.”

His eyebrow rose. “Yes, you are.”

“I am not.”

“Leonard.”

Leonard narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t lose touch with emotions over there.”

“I did, otherwise I would have recognized sooner that, earlier in medbay, you had the same look that Jim does when someone nearly catches him having a panic attack,” he said. “But I never forgot how to trick you into listening.”

He huffed. “I hate you, you know that?”

“I do. Now tell me what happened to you.”

“Nuh-uh. This conversation is about you and T’Pring, not me.”

“You made this about both of us when you drew the connection to my statement,” Spock argued. “_Quid pro quo_, Doctor.”

“Don’t hit me with the Latin crap, hobgoblin, we’re here for you.”

“By ignoring that ‘Latin crap,’ you are hardly convincing me to open up.”

Leonard glared because _damn him_, he was right. “If there weren’t a baby present, I would have some _very _choice words for you.”

His mouth didn’t move, but Leonard swore Spock was smirking at him. “I know.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, almost wishing Romulans would attack just to get him out of this conversation. “You realize that, after this little stunt, you _have _to tell me what happened in that marriage of yours?”

“I do.”

Leonard waited, waited for Spock to take it back, but he just levelled a steady look at the doctor, doing what he did best: Waiting in patient, aggravating silence. He heaved a sigh. “_Fine_. But I’m not doing this without a helluva lot of bourbon in me.”

“I expected as much.”

Flipping Spock the bird as he stood, Leonard went to fetch the bourbon stashed in his office. Downing a glass of the liquid courage, he started to talk.

\-----

** _Four Years Ago_ **

A forest of massive trees loomed around them, the undergrowth around them thick and impenetrable in places. Sunlight broke through the canopy in streaks of golden light, but the forest floor was still dim and gloomy. Chekov had loved it, enthusing about how cool and creepy it felt right up until he fell into a patch of quicksand. Uhura had pulled him out before any real harm was done, but now, filthy and subdued, he followed her around like a shadow. Busy smacking at the vines trying to curl around his arm, Leonard wasn’t any happier. “Damn sentient plants.”

“They’re not really sentient, Doc,” Sulu said, smiling at a baby one curling around his finger. “Besides, they’re kinda cute.”

“You can’t stand still for five seconds without a dozen of them trying to grab you.”

“Then don’t stand still,” Uhura teased, flicking a vine out of Chekov’s hair.

“Sure,” Leonard said drily, picking a lure out of his kit and crouching to set it in a patch of sunlight. A simple cylinder that emitted a nectar-like scent, he switched it on and watched bugs like miniature dragonflies fly straight to it and promptly get trapped by the one-way forcefield. He stuck that in a container and put it back in his kit.

In the minute or two he took to do that, three vines had crept onto his shoulders, two were trying to get up his shirt, five had latched onto his legs, and another was trying to blindfold him. Grumbling, he pried that one off, both relieved and embarrassed when Uhura, shaking her head fondly, came over to help with the others. “You’re exaggerating – that was only eleven.”

He glared, the look ruined almost immediately when a fly the size of a grape tried to fly up his nose. Sulu, his baby vine still twined around his hand, plucked it from the air and tossed it lightly away, grinning. “I think this forest likes you.”

“The feeling is _not _mutual,” Leonard spluttered.

“I am wiz ze doctor,” Chekov piped up pitifully.

Uhura sighed like a patient sister, patting Leonard’s shoulder as she stood up. “There are some plants a few hundred yards away that you want to look at, right, Hikaru?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok. Leonard, Pavel, you two stay here and keep picking vines off each other. Hikaru and I will go to those plants and then we’ll beam back to the ship when we’re done. Deal?”

Relieved at not having to hike through anymore clingy vines and thorny bushes, Leonard agreed emphatically. Chekov was a little less enthusiastic at being left by his knight in Starfleet armor, but he agreed nonetheless. Sulu ruffled the kid’s hair as they left, making him smile even as he tried to duck away and pout. He plopped down beside Leonard, helping him take dirt samples.

That lasted all of five minutes. The kid loved science and had matured a lot since their first meeting, but he was still young and excitable, and so the sight of a brightly colored winged lizard leaping from tree to tree caught his attention. He dutifully tried to stay put, but with a warning not to get lost, Leonard waved him off to go chase it.

So when, several minutes later, Leonard heard a rustling in the bushes, he was alone. “Chekov?”

Silence.

Leonard narrowed his eyes at the continued rustling. Still sitting, he started reaching for the phaser attached to his belt. “Sulu, if that’s you trying to scare me, so help me _God_-”

A ghostly pale man leapt from the bushes with a monstrous shriek. Leonard tried to scramble to his feet, tried to shoot at it. Four arms knocked the phaser away, grabbed him by the throat, slammed him back into a tree, and sank a knife into his side. Leonard screamed, kicking out, but the hits he landed didn’t budge the thing. It let him fall only to grab a fistful of his hair and scurry up the tree with him, dragging him into a thick cluster of branches and clapping a hand over his mouth, extra limbs holding him still.

Trapped, consciousness fading, Leonard could only watch the others came racing back, phasers out, yelling for him.

He wanted to scream for Jim, for the man who had never left him.

Until he did.

\-----

** _Today_ **

Leonard drained another glass of bourbon, the bottle already half empty beside him, before finishing. “It took them three days to get me back and months to get over their guilt. I was barely half conscious for most of it, but I remember being terrified the whole time. All I could think was a never-ending cycle of ‘Jim wouldn’t have left me’ and ‘But he _did _leave me.’ For three damn days.”

Spock just looked down at Suna as he absorbed the story. “Why were you attacked?”

“Because we were on their territory or something.” He shrugged, pouring another glass. “I dunno, I was still pretty heavily drugged when Nyota explained. That wound was a nasty mess. Got the scar to prove it.”

“And you blame Jim for this?” he asked slowly.

Leonard sighed, taking a drink. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

Spock furrowed his brows, and damn if he didn’t look endearing when he was confused. Almost made up for him being a pretentious know-it-all the rest of the time. “I do not understand.”

“It’s…” Leonard searched for the words to explain. “It’s like if you hated all Romulans for what Nero did to your mother even though he stood apart from the others. You don’t, because it doesn’t make sense, and I _know_ me resenting Jim doesn’t make much sense either, but I still can’t shake it.”

“That is most illogical.”

Despite it all, Leonard laughed, dropping his head back against the wall and just _laughing_. It came out sounding more maniacal than amused, years of loneliness and terror and resentment and guilt bubbling out in the vaguely drunken noise. He had never dared admit it aloud, but _God _he’d missed the hobgoblin’s habit of boiling every confusing human act down to “That is most illogical.” Annoying as it could get, it could also make things seem rather… simple.

Spock was still looking at him in utter confusion. “I was not trying to be amusing, Doctor.”

“No, I know,” he said, swiping at an escaped tear of laughter. “I just… God, I guess I’ve been waiting four years for you to tell me that.”

Spock shifted uncomfortably. “I see.”

“Right. Your turn.” Leonard sobered, wishing Spock would accept a drink, even if drinking it would be solely symbolic for him. Still, he held up the bottle in a silent offer, withdrawing it without protest when Spock shook his head. “Why’d you stop calling us?”

After a long minute of gathering his courage, Spock opened his mouth to answer.

The red alert siren blared.

_Damn it, if that’s because of Romulans, you guys were supposed to get _me _out of this conversation, not Spock._

“Go to T’Lal,” Leonard ordered, jumping off the biobed and holding his arms out for Suna. “I’ll take care of her. _Go_.”

Spock nodded, handing her over and letting her squeeze his finger before running to his quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're ready for angst!! The next two chapters are nearly double my usual length and absolutely loaded with pain :) (The lengths go back to normal after that but don't worry!! The pain keeps coming)
> 
> Oh, I'm also doing a bit of Whumptober! Not the whole thing, that takes time and effort, but I'm aiming for at least one a week, and most or all of them will be for Trek characters. This week's was Jim & Uhura, and next week's might be adult T'Lal and her future wife if I feel confident enough in their characterizations. They'll all be posted here on AO3 if you're interested!


	8. Necklace of Trust, Noose of Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we finally are: Twice weekly updates! This chapter gave me absolute hell when I was writing it, ngl. The pacing, the wording, the section breaks, the length, pulling it all together was a sTrUgGlE, and then I had to mess with it aGaIn after getting the idea for the next chapter. So. I hope it turned out well!

When the light in her quarters flared red and the alarm began to sound, Nyota threw on her uniform and ran not to the bridge, but to Spock’s quarters. Where she had faltered that evening, hovering outside his quarters for five minutes but ultimately unable to bring herself to knock, now she walked straight in without hesitation. Tucked in her father’s arms, T’Lal had only a heartbeat to register her entrance before Spock was spinning around to stare at her, Jim at his side.

Before anyone could speak, Terrell’s voice came over the comm. _“Terrell to Vice Admiral Kirk, please report to the bridge.”_

Jim hesitated, glancing from Nyota to T’Lal.

“Go,” Nyota told him. “I’ll stay with them.”

Spock tried to protest. “Nyota, your duty is on-”

“My duty is to whomever I choose on my own time,” she said firmly. “Until my shift starts and I am required on the bridge, I’m staying right here.”

Jim nodded, reaching the panel to respond. “I’m on my way.”

“Wait!” T’Lal cried, twisting around in her father’s arms to look at him.

Patiently, Jim returned to her, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry, kiddo, I’ve survived a lot worse than a few Romulans. I’ll be back.”

She threw her arms around him, both Jim and Spock looking startled by the action. “I love you, too,” he murmured, hugging her back.

Nyota was hit by a wave of regret. Then immediately felt guilty about the regret.

“All right, I’ve gotta go,” he said, carefully pulling back and giving her hair a ruffle. “Be good.”

“Ok,” she said reluctantly, her lip wobbling a bit. Jim smiled the smile he had always used to soothe nervous crewmembers, the one that Nyota had always considered his captain’s smile, and gave her a light bop on the nose to make her giggle before he left, his steps confident and shoulders straight.

Terrell was a wonderful man and accomplished captain, but not for the first time, Nyota longed for Jim to resume his rightful place in the captain’s chair, missing the security that had come from knowing that that confidence would get them out of even the direst of situations. A million dreams flashed through her mind, dreams dashed by him and Spock leaving, dreams of growing a family and building a future with them at the heart of it all.

The door slid shut behind him, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

\-----

Jim strode onto the bridge with the easy confidence of purpose. Yorktown meetings had always been a source of dread, his heart sinking at the prospect of another day in the office. Waking up to yet another day as captain had once felt the same, but now, striding over to stand by his old chair, gaze sweeping around the bridge to take in everyone who was on duty and having them look back and straighten ever so slightly at his presence, being on the bridge felt _right_.

But he didn’t allow himself to dwell on that. The viewscreen showed an old _Kelvin_-class starship, the _Cassandra_, adrift and heavily damaged. “Any answer to hails? Did she get off a distress call?”

“No to both, sir,” answered the ensign at Uhura’s station.

“Scans show no lifesigns,” Commander Barrett reported. “All escape pods and shuttles are still docked. Whoever attacked them was fast and merciless.”

Jim glanced at Spock’s replacement. She was middle-aged and stern, grey streaking her dark hair; Bones had complained about her multiple times, especially in the first few months. It was rare for someone with her experience to still be a commander, something Bones had always chalked up to her not being bold or inventive enough to take command. With a warning that he’d kill Jim if he ever spoke of it, he’d admitted that even Spock was less annoying about regulations than Barrett was. “Who did attack them?”

“Residual energy traces indicate Romulans.”

Jim furrowed his brows, stepping up to look over Sulu’s shoulder. “We’re still hours away from the Neutral Zone. Besides, it’s not like she’s a threat, that ship’s nearly 40 years old with the weapons tech to match.”

“She was due to be retired next year,” Sulu confirmed. “They were probably out here on a simple survey mission.”

Jim drummed his fingers thoughtfully against the back of Sulu’s chair. “Commander, is there life support over there?”

“Yes.”

The edge to her tone made Jim stop. Abruptly realizing that he had slipped entirely back into his old job and not let Craig get a word in edgewise, something he had always hated people doing to him when he was captain, he turned around, apology ready on his tongue.

Only to see Craig smiling at him. “No, go ahead, Kirk,” he said. “You have an idea. What is it?”

He clasped his hands behind his back, a very Spockian posture that actually came in handy during awkward moments. “I respectfully suggest that Commander Barrett lead an away team to investigate the ship. They should do a manual check for survivors and see if she can be returned to safety under her own power.”

“An excellent idea,” he agreed. “Take a shuttle over – if the Romulans come back, I don’t want an away team stranded when we put shields up. But I want you to lead that team, Kirk.”

Barrett, who had risen from her seat, spluttered. “Sir, that’s against regulations!”

“And I’ve decided that regulations don’t apply when Romulans are well inside Federation space,” Craig said. “I want you here if they come back. Kirk, pick your team and go.”

Jim glanced between Craig and Barrett. “Captain, it’s all right, she should go-”

“I realize you technically have the authority to refuse my orders, Jim, but we may be in a warzone and this is my ship, so you really should do as I say.”

Jim crossed his arms. _I know exactly what you’re doing,_ his challenging stare said.

Craig’s smile answered _I know._

Finally, the temptation was too much to resist. “Sulu, grab your sword and let’s go. I want Scotty, Cupcake, and Bones, too.”

At the mention of Bones, everyone suddenly seemed to deflate. Everyone but Barrett. Sulu, who had leapt out of his chair with a grin, exchanged an uncertain glance with Chekov, and everybody else seemed to be doing the same thing with their own neighbors. Craig exchanged his glance with Barrett, but she just flashed a challenging smirk, as if Jim wanting the chief medical officer along proved just how unfit he was to lead an away team.

“What?” he asked, looking from person to person. “Don’t tell me you guys have been giving in to his complaining.”

“It’s not that,” Sulu said. Jim waited, but he didn’t elaborate.

“Maybe you should pick another doctor, Jim,” Craig suggested.

“Why? Bones is the best.”

“It’s…” Craig ran a hand through his hair. “Just pick someone else.”

He crossed his arms. “If no one can give me an actual reason, I’m picking Bones.”

“He’s…” Chekov started, but a look from Sulu silenced him. “It’s personal, sir. We cannot say.”

Jim remembered how Bones had pulled too quickly out of their hug. How he always seemed to be holding something back when they talked, how that constant warmth and support he had come to depend on during their academy years and throughout his command was now a wilted, half-hearted shell of what it once was. And now everyone was telling Jim not to take him on an away mission for a reason they wouldn’t say to him.

_Did I hurt him that badly?_

Suddenly struggling to maintain the assured captain persona he had slipped into so instinctively just a few minutes ago, Jim said “Meet in the shuttlebay in fifteen minutes.”

He hurried into the turbolift, not giving Sulu a chance to follow, and headed for medbay.

\-----

Spock broke the silence. “Thank you,” he said, sitting on the bed.

Sitting on his lap, T’Lal glared at her. “Why did _you _come?”

“T’Lal-” Spock started.

Nyota held up a hand to stop him. “No, it’s ok. She doesn’t know, does she?”

“Know what?” she asked.

“No,” Spock admitted.

“Can I tell her?”

“Tell me _what_?”

“Yes.”

Nyota took a breath, sitting down beside them and clasping her hands in her lap. “When your father lived aboard the _Enterprise_, and even before then, we were dating. Not just dating – we were in love. We were even bonded for the last eight months before he left.”

T’Lal swiveled to stare at Spock, looking very much like the ground had just collapsed beneath her. “You were in love before T’Pring?”

“I…” Spock’s eyes flickered to Nyota before settling on the floor. “If I am being honest, I never loved your mother. I tried, but I could not.”

After a long moment of processing that, T’Lal looked back at Nyota. “That doesn’t explain why you ran.”

“I ran because I wasn’t expecting to see him. I thought I had put behind me what I lost when he left, but when I saw him again…” Nyota paused, picking her words carefully. “When I saw Spock again, it overwhelmed me. I was hurt, I was happy, I was… I felt a lot of things. I knew I wouldn’t be able to control those emotions if I stayed, that I would just hurt all of us even more, so I didn’t. I ran.”

“You left to protect us,” T’Lal summarized slowly.

“You could say that, yes.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why should I believe you?”

Nyota cast about, searching for something she could use to prove that she could never hate or hurt Spock. Realizing she had the perfect piece of evidence, she reached beneath her collar and pulled out the _vokaya_ amulet. “Do you know what this is?”

“My mother’s necklace,” Spock answered. His eyes wide, he looked from it to Nyota. “You still wear it?”

“I never stopped,” she murmured.

T’Lal furrowed her brows. “That belonged to my human grandma?”

“Yes,” Nyota said. “Spock gave this to me on our first anniversary, and I’ve treasured it ever since. If you want to verify that, just ask any of the main crew. They’ll know.”

She nodded slowly, watching the amulet shine even in the darkness. Before she could rethink it, Nyota took the necklace off and held it out to T’Lal. “Here. I think your grandma would want you to have it.”

She picked it up almost reverently, this necklace that, for all Nyota knew, might well be her first real link to her human heritage. Spock helped her fasten it, the amulet falling down so its bottom tip just managed to rest over her heart. Nyota smiled. “It’s perfect.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, utterly sincere.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Her gaze drifted as she spoke, drifted back to Spock, to see that he was already looking at her. Years of history passed between the look, years of love and pain, and the need to be alone with him overwhelmed her. She didn’t know what she wanted to say, but she needed to say _something_.

Luckily, Spock seemed to be on the same wavelength. “T’Lal, would you mind returning to your room?”

“Why?”

“Please. And do not even think about eavesdropping.”

Grumbling, she hopped off the bed and went to her room. Nyota huffed a little laugh. “I like her.”

“She has a bad habit.”

Despite his stern words, he seemed to perk up at hers. Looking at the bags under his eyes, she wanted to fall back into old habits, to move up behind him and wrap her arms around him and nestle her chin into the crook of his neck and talk logic to him in her cutest sleepy voice until he caved and agreed to sleep that night, safe and sound in her arms.

What came out instead was “You really hurt us when you stopped answering our calls. You hurt _me_. Something happened on that jungle planet, and I- I _needed _you, but _you weren’t there_.”

He ducked his head, any happiness he’d felt at Nyota liking T’Lal evaporating in a heartbeat. “I know.”

She was used to having to explain emotional concepts to him. She was used to him not quite understanding the emotional impacts of his actions. She was used to being the one who translated the world of emotions for him, and it was a role she had enjoyed, because he was cute when he was confused, and she found the difference of cultures intriguing. He had wanted to learn how to love and support them as best he could, and she had been happy to teach him.

She was not used to him knowing how badly he had hurt his human family and still doing it anyway. Not when lives weren’t at stake.

“Then why did you do it?”

He closed his eyes, and when he spoke, it sounded like each word was being dragged out of him. “Because had I continued interacting with you and the crew, it could have cost me my daughters.”

\-----

Leonard silently thanked Hikaru for the heads-up even as his heart sank at the sight of Jim walking into medbay. He could see immediately that something was amiss with him, his expression uncertain, his stride lacking any bounce – he even seemed to hesitate the slightest bit when the doors opened. But he tried to hide all of that, speaking with his usual energy. “Bones! Ready for an away mission?”

Spock had phrased the situation so simply – _That is most illogical _– and he was right. It was Leonard’s mind twisting his fear of space and his sense of loss together, manifesting as blaming Jim for something he had no control over. It should’ve been such a simple thing to explain – Jim was certainly no stranger to the emotional struggles of missions gone wrong, or to families torn apart by the best intentions. For the first time, part of Leonard had the push he needed to explain why he had suddenly become more distant.

But seeing Jim in person, his courage fell apart. He couldn’t risk putting that weight on him. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He had spent years helping build Jim up, giving him a foundation in something other than tragedy after tragedy after tragedy, and Jim had done the same for him in return. How could he ever knock him down?

Looking around, Leonard found the nearest box of supplies and started organizing them, praying the movement hid the tremor in his hands. “Sorry, kid, I have to stay.”

“You’re organizing gloves.”

“Yeah, and that could very well save a life if someone’s allergic to the material of one type of glove.”

Jim was right behind him now. In all the years of dealing with Jim’s brand of occasionally rough physical affection, he had never felt like the kid was invading his personal space before, but now he could barely breathe, Jim’s presence pressing against him like a crushing weight. “Literally anyone can do that. Come on, there could be people on that ship who need your help.”

“I’m…” He wracked his brain for a more convincing excuse. “I’m staying with Suna.”

“M’Benga can take care of her. He interned on New Vulcan; she’ll be safe with him.”

The doctor looked up at the sound of his name, starting to come over when Leonard shot him a pleading look. The stress of the secret, the stress of the mission, the stress of hurting Jim, they were all overwhelming him, and damn it, he could _not _afford an attack right now, although it was clearly too late to avoid one. _Please, Jim, _please _stop pressing. _“I’m still the best at Vulcan-human hybrids. I want to be here to monitor her.”

“Bones, what’s wrong?”

His panic must’ve started bleeding through his voice, or maybe Jim had seen his hands shake. Jim tried to move around to look at him better, clearly concerned, reaching out to steady him, but Leonard turned away and moved to the nearest biobed, starting a diagnostic on its monitor, missing the buttons on his first couple tries. “Nothing. Just- just take M’Benga. Please.”

“Why- Bones, why won’t you look at me?”

Jim wasn’t a captain or a vice admiral or any sort of Starfleet officer anymore. His voice had broken, revealing the boy within that had never quite escaped the horrors of his father’s death and his abusive stepfather and Tarsus IV, the boy who was always waiting for his world to come crashing down around him at any moment no matter how much he had grown to trust his Starfleet family. Leonard knew this, heard it loud and clear, and the instinct to drop everything and take care of him reared up, trying to fight off the panic attack.

The worlds still spilled out before Leonard could stop them.

“Because you left me to die!”

A new kind of panic swamped over him. He spun around, trying to apologize, but he still couldn’t breathe, and Jim was backing away, hurt shining crystal clear in his eyes, eyes that were wide and young like a little boy who wanted to run and hide and cry. “M’Benga,” he said, not quite managing to hide a waver in his voice, “pick a nurse and meet the away team in the shuttlebay.”

Leonard tried to follow, but his knees buckled, forcing him to stop, grabbing the biobed for support. M’Benga caught him, steadying him, and that just made Leonard feel more guilty for evading Jim’s attempt to do the same, and maybe that was what finally pushed words past the lump in his throat. “No, wait, Jim, I didn’t mean it- not like that- come back- _Jim_!”

Jim was already gone, the medbay doors sliding shut behind him.

\-----

“What?”

Nyota’s voice was nothing but concerned and confused, with not a single hard edge to be heard, but Spock could not help but flinch away as if she had accused him of some gruesome crime. For four years, only his father had ever known why he had resumed suppressing his human side. It had hurt him, but for the most part he had not fought it, simply stepping in to help as often as he could. Still, Spock had always felt the guilt of once again forsaking his mother’s heritage, not to mention abandoning the family he had made aboard this ship, the supportive family he knew she had always wanted him to have.

“Spock, what does that mean? How could talking to us have cost you your daughters?”

“T’Pring was adamant that any children we may have would be raised Vulcan,” Spock started, forcing out the words he had held back for years. “I agreed. It was logical – they would be three-quarters Vulcan and raised by Vulcans on New Vulcan. But when we learned she was pregnant with T’Lal, I do not think either one of us was prepared for the emotional aspects of the pregnancy. She did not expect to care for a logical necessity, nor did I expect to-”

_Nor did I expect to cave to her so easily._

The words caught in his throat, tangled in shame and regret and embarrassment.

Nyota reached for his hand, hesitated, and shifted to squeeze his shoulder. “You didn’t expect to what, Spock?”

He wanted nothing more than to lean into her touch and let the past four years fade away, but he could not. “I love my daughters,” he said. “I would not trade their existence for anything.”

“No one’s saying you would, Spock,” she said. “Unless… T’Pring didn’t, did she?”

“I tried to move on. I tried to put our courtship behind me and focus on the family I had chosen to build, but-” He closed his eyes, unable to look at her. “But I still love you, Nyota, and T’Pring knew it.”

Nyota’s hand left his shoulder, the bed shifting as she leaned back. “You… you still love me?” she echoed.

He could not tell what her tone was.

“Yes,” he admitted. “She could sense it through our bond. She could also sense the rare moments when I could not stop myself from wondering what life would be like had I remained with you and the crew. It did not make her jealous – she never loved me romantically – but it did make her defensive. I did everything in my power to prove to her that I had committed to our life on New Vulcan, but she was always suspicious that I would leave. That day we discovered her first pregnancy, she told me that if she so much as suspected that I had decided to leave them, or if she believed I was contaminating her with the human ideals you had taught me, she would evict me and not let me see T’Lal again.”

She crossed her arms tightly, but when she spoke, it was not to be angry at T’Pring. “Spock,” Nyota said slowly, “you didn’t steal your daughters, did you?”

“_No_,” he exclaimed, head snapping up to look at her. “Do you think so little of me?”

“No!” she rushed to say, grabbing his hand as if to keep him from pulling away. “No, I just had to check, ok? It would’ve been illogical not to.”

“She left us,” Spock said, not very reassured.

“I believe you,” Nyota assured him. She eased her grip on his hand from fierce to gentle, twining their fingers together. “Tell me what happened. Please. From the beginning.”

He searched for any hint of dishonesty, but as always, she was only supportive, and so, gathering the courage he had found in medbay, he told the story.


	9. The Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this up hours ago but I let myself get completely distracted by other fandoms (mostly the Flarrowverse, Call the Midwife, and Supernatural, it's been a Week of heartbreak and feels), and I also had to deal with replacing my broken laptop and setting up my new one, so this is getting posted on Friday morning instead of Thursday (though it might still be Thursday in some of your time zones so I'm not /completely/ late) and that's my bad! You get a pretty long chapter for your wait, but it is nOt a happy one. It's something I've never done, in fact: Pure flashback. Not one word of this takes place in the present. I didn't intend to do this - this was the entire new chapter that delayed the twice-weekly postings - but when I was looking for a flashback scene to write like with Bones, I couldn't pick just one, and this rapidly grew far too long to include in the last chapter. I hope it works!

** _Four Years Ago_ **

“This is the view from our patio.”

Spock lifted up the PADD so Nyota could see the sunrise over the mountains, fiery orange light spilling across the desert. It was the last stop on the tour of his recently painted new house, and he had hoped the weather would cooperate so she could enjoy a New Vulcan sunrise. Indeed it had, and as he tilted the PADD to see her smile, he was glad of it.

_“It’s beautiful, Spock. The view and your home.”_

“Thank you.”

_“When do you move in?”_

“One week,” he answered, taking a seat at the table already set up. “T’Pring will be glad to leave my father’s home.”

He did not mention that he would miss having his father at home. It was not quite the same as having his mother’s comfort to return to after a long day of fighting back his human half, but they had become much closer in the years since her death, and he would certainly miss the quiet tie Sarek’s presence offered to that comfort. He was all that was really familiar on this alien planet.

Well. All that was familiar in a good way.

Nyota’s chuckle sounded somewhat forced. _“I can imagine.”_

Spock resisted the urge to clear his throat. “How are you doing?”

She shrugged. _“It’s been pretty quiet over here. I’m due to go down to a jungle planet with Len, Hikaru, and Pavel tomorrow. Aside from some disgusting bugs, it shouldn’t be eventful.”_

“There are far fewer bugs on New Vulcan than in a jungle,” Spock pointed out, unable to keep a hint of eagerness out of his voice.

_“I don’t doubt it,”_ she said. _“I’d love to visit, but we won’t be in the area for months at least, and finding other transport there and back is a nightmare.”_

Spock had expected as much – New Vulcan was far closer to Earth than the _Enterprise_’s deep space missions usually went. Still, he found his heart sinking at her confirmation that his separation from her and the others would continue for a while yet. “Of course.”

She smiled sadly. _“One day, Spock. I promise.”_

“It is time to depart, Spock.”

He looked up at T’Pring’s voice. She sounded slightly harsh, but he simply attributed it to the significance of their appointment. Neither of them wished to be late. “I will be there in a moment.”

She left without a word. “I must go, Nyota.”

_“I figured. Same time tomorrow?”_

He nodded, looking forward to that time before they even ended the communication.

\-----

A simple at-home pregnancy test was all that had been required to confirm the parents’ theory on Vulcan, but after their near extinction event, each and every pregnancy was tracked from the moment it was discovered. Both the mother and the child were monitored closely for even the slightest risk to either one, and the child’s genetic information was added to a registry for the purpose of selecting a future partner to preserve the genetic integrity of future generations. Hence why Spock now stood in a hospital room, holding a PADD that, in the form of a list of genetic attributes, gave him a picture of what his daughter would look like.

T’Pring’s interest in it surprised him. She had one hand on her stomach as she looked over the data with him, asking the doctor questions. She did not seem resentful that her unborn child had human DNA. Through their bond, he could even feel that she was looking forward to her birth.

“The child’s Vulcan genetics remain dominant despite the human influence,” the doctor was saying, voice chilling slightly at the mention of her humanity. “Assuming that indicates a typical Vulcan gestation length, she will be born in approximately eight and a half months.”

_She will have her grandmother’s eyes._

That soothed the sting of the doctor’s disdain. For the first time, his mother would live on in not just him, but his daughter. Logically, he knew she was still little more than a bundle of cells, but already it took more effort than Spock had ever imagined to hide his joy that she existed, his excitement at the prospect of holding her for the first time. He spent the entire trip home imagining showing her to the crew, longing for them to know her.

T’Pring’s words once they were inside stopped him cold.

“She will not be meeting your human friends. Nor will they be told of her.”

Spock snapped out of his daydreams. “She is human, T’Pring. She will have emotions, just as I did when we were young. She will need my friends.”

“You felt free to indulge in those emotions because your human mother encouraged you,” T’Pring said. “I will not have my daughter exposed to that same influence.”

He was suddenly grateful he had been working so hard to suppress his happiness, for it made it easier to control the surge of anger. “I was hardly _free _to be emotional. I was bullied mercilessly for the slightest hint of showing one.”

“Which is precisely why neither you nor anyone else will show our daughter that it is normal for her.”

Spock narrowed his eyes. “That will hurt her, just as it hurt me.”

“Not if she never knows.” She lifted her chin. “We have discussed this. Any children we may have will be born to further the survival of the Vulcan species, and thus they will be raised Vulcan. Humanity is not a factor in anything but their physical health.”

“It is a factor in far more than that.”

Her voice turned icy. “You forget that I can sense the moments in which you are tempted to leave, Spock. That is your humanity speaking. If I sense that humanity is at risk of poisoning my daughter against me, I will not hesitate to remove you from her life. Am I understood?”

Spock searched for the words to fight back, but knowing how he had grown up disliking his father, he could not find any. “Yes,” he murmured, feeling as if he was shrinking before her. “I understand.”

She nodded in satisfaction and spun on her heel, sweeping past Sarek as she left. His father looked at him, trying to catch his attention, but Spock just ducked his head and fled in the opposite direction.

\-----

Nyota called in the morning. And the morning after, this time leaving a message that something had happened.

He did not answer.

He could not answer.

It was easier than lying, he tried to tell himself. It was for his daughter.

She stopped calling.

One by one, the rest of the crew gave up as well.

Alone in the darkness, Spock could not hold back a tear.

\-----

** _A Year and a Half Ago_ **

Spock sat out on the patio beneath the night sky, strumming his new lyre. It felt foreign in his hands, empty where his mother’s note was engraved on the one she had gifted to him, but he played it anyway. His fingers ran across the strings, pulling the notes of human music out of the Vulcan design, seeking the familiarity of Nyota’s favorite songs but unable to sing the words.

“What are you playing, Daddy?”

He set the lyre on the table, lifting T’Lal into his lap when she tottered over, still in her nightgown. “Music.”

She nestled against him in a very human way, rubbing her eyes. “What song?”

“Nothing you know,” he said, guiding her hand away from her eye. “You should be getting ready for daycare.”

“Don’t wanna,” she muttered. “Everybody’s mean.”

Spock closed his eyes against the exhausted rage, knowing exactly what she meant. The adults slowed their voices around her, simplifying their word choice just as they had when he was young. Picking up on that behavior, the children ostracized her and picked on her. She was suffering exactly as he had, and T’Pring would not let him help her in any meaningful way. “You must go to daycare, T’Lal.”

“Wanna stay home. With Grandpa.”

“Sarek must work,” Spock said gently, carrying her back to her room. “You cannot avoid this.”

“I wanna meet humans. Humans seem nicer.”

Spock sat her on her bed, going to pick an outfit out of her closet. “Humans have their own prejudices, T’Lal.” _And I let T’Pring cut us off from those who would have loved you. _“You must stay on New Vulcan.”

He could not say it was better for her.

When he laid the outfit out beside her, she looked up at him. “You had human friends, right? And Grandma was human.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about them.”

It was not the first time she had asked. She had been curious about the ancestry T’Pring denied her since she was old enough to understand that she was not fully Vulcan, that she was unique in the galaxy. He did what he could not to quash that curiosity, but with T’Pring watching his every move when they were together, often all he could do was take a softer stance when telling her to be more Vulcan. Tonight, however, T’Pring would leave for a business trip, and if he was careful…

He glanced at the clock, knowing T’Pring would expect T’Lal to be ready soon. “I will make you a deal: If you go to daycare, I will tell you a story after I pick you up. Is this acceptable?”

T’Lal nodded. “Yes.”

Spock kissed her brow before he could think better of it. “Get dressed. And do not tell your mother about this.”

Despite T’Pring’s every effort to stamp out T’Lal’s emotions, the little girl grinned.

\-----

** _One Year Ago_ **

“Sit, T’Lal,” Spock said, gesturing to her traditional seat at the patio table. T’Pring was already sitting.

T’Lal sat, expression neutral, back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap, the very image of Vulcan perfection. “What is it?”

Spock watched her with regret. He was human with her behind closed doors, giving her the same love his mother had given him, and there, she was happy, enjoying his tales of the humans she would never meet. But there was always a tension in the air as they awaited discovery, for while T’Lal did not know of the threat hanging over them, she knew how T’Pring would react to her showing emotion. So when they left her room, their one safe haven, she had learned to hide her humanity. Just as he had.

“I am pregnant,” T’Pring told her.

T’Lal blinked. “I will be a sister?”

“In approximately eight months, yes.”

In a heartbeat, her neutrality vanished. “And my sibling’s humanity will be treated the same as mine and Dad’s, I suppose.”

Spock stiffened, fear arcing through him, but T’Pring’s only response was an icy “Yes.” She did not look at him.

T’Lal turned a heated glare on her mother. “I will not let you hurt her as you have hurt us.”

“I am _protecting _you,” T’Pring said.

Through the bond that had become his prison, Spock knew some part of her genuinely believed it.

“From what?” T’Lal snapped. “From the kids bullying me? The adults treating me and Dad like we’re stupid? We suffer through all of that anyway. From feeling emotions? I happen to _like _feeling things. Maybe you hate it, but I like smiling, and laughing, and hugging. Maybe my sibling won’t, but I want them to have the _choice_. The choice _you _never gave me.”

T’Pring stared at her daughter, anger beginning to show through cracks in her mask. She took a deep breath, clasping her hands tightly together. “Emotions are dangerous, T’Lal. They result in rash decisions and risky actions. I am protecting you from a lifetime of illogical decisions.”

“I can _be _logical and still _feel_,” T’Lal snarled. “I will not let you steal that choice from my sibling.”

She stormed away. T’Pring looked at Spock. “Control your daughter.”

Swallowing down multiple retorts about how T’Lal was her daughter as well and that she was _right_, Spock stood without a word and followed her to her room. She had left the door ajar, and he opened it slowly. “T’Lal?”

She was curled up on her bed, arms crossed tightly, her back to the door. “Why do you let her do this?”

It was a question he had been waiting for. He had seen it on the tip of her tongue several times in their most open moments, but she had always either rethought asking it or been interrupted. He closed the door quietly, turning his back on her just long enough to steady himself. Finally, he sat beside her, resting his hand on her shoulder.

“When we found out we were expecting you,” he began quietly, “your mother gave me an ultimatum: I could have my humanity, or I could have you. I chose you. I will always choose you. That now extends to your sister as well.”

T’Lal rolled over slowly. “She’ll blame you. Won’t she? For me being too human.”

He hung his head, wishing she hadn’t looked at him. “It is likely. Part of her loves you, T’Lal, otherwise she would not care enough to do this. She simply does not know how to love your human side.”

T’Lal snorted. “She doesn’t want to.”

“T’Lal…”

He wanted to tell her she was wrong, but he could not lie to her.

She rolled away, pulling the blanket over her head. “Go away.”

He pulled back as if he’d been electrocuted. As far as his heart was concerned, he had been.

\-----

Nothing they did stopped her from rebelling.

T’Lal refused to meditate. She willfully disobeyed her teachers. She retaliated when the other children picked on her, usually with words but sometimes with fists. She refused to take the insults lying down as Spock did, and when confronted, she said that she would rather bear the burden of problematic human child than risk letting her sister suffer it as well. If she had to be a demon so her sister could be an angel, then a demon she would be.

She isolated herself from Spock to do it. She shut her door in his face, snapped at him when he tried to discipline her. Gone were the stolen moments of peaceful humanity, the two of them alone with his stories against the world. He could not even lure her back to him with blatantly human music played on his lyre.

He only knew she did not mean it because she protected him viciously from insults. Or perhaps she did mean it, but her good, loving heart kept her from turning her back on him. Either way, he knew he did not deserve her love.

If T’Pring tried to pin the blame on him, T’Lal would fight her as well, and eventually, T’Pring stopped trying. Her only refrain was a terse order to “Control your daughter, Spock.”

T’Lal only calmed the day her sister was born.

\-----

** _Three Months Ago_ **

“You may only hold your sister if you promise to behave.”

It was the last thing T’Pring said before she was taken to the delivery room. As per Vulcan custom, Spock and T’Lal waited elsewhere. They sat in silence, and Spock watched her struggle the entire time, her rebellion and excitement fighting against control. He did not know which side he wanted to win. By the time a nurse came to fetch them, control had won.

She pursed her lips tightly together to manage it, but she did not smile when T’Pring placed Suna in her arms. Spock’s heart broke at that, knowing her smile should have lit up the room, that her joy at having a little sister should never have been tempered for the simple promise of holding her.

He took her next, noticing as he did her slightly curved ears. She too had his mother’s eyes, marking her as more human than her sister. But Spock found himself focusing on her expression. She was already asleep, calm and peaceful as T’Lal had once been, utterly unbothered by the battle between her Vulcan and human sides.

In that moment, he wanted to protect her from ever knowing that pain.

Looking at T’Pring’s warning stare, his courage failed him.

\-----

Later that day, he sat at his father’s table, hunched over a cup of tea. “I do not know what to do,” he admitted quietly, exhausted.

Sarek sat beside him, reassuringly close for the entire duration of his visit, but he still surprised Spock when he rested his hand on his arm. “I think you do know,” he said. “She has cut you and your daughters off from everyone you hold dear, including your mother. You and T’Lal have both suffered for this. You know you cannot allow that to continue, nor can you allow it to happen to Suna at all.”

He looked up at his father, desperate for answers. “I cannot fight her without risking losing my daughters.”

“You will lose them regardless if you do not fight back,” Sarek pointed out gently. “Either T’Pring will find an excuse to take them from you, or they will grow to resent you as you once resented me, or worse.”

Spock’s grip on the teacup tightened at the implication, very nearly shattering it.

“I stood by while you suffered in your childhood. I even encouraged some of that suffering and excused it as encouraging you to be fully Vulcan, something I know now that you could not and cannot be. I will not repeat those mistakes now with my granddaughters. Whatever action you take, my son, I will support you,” he said, “but you must _act_. Preferably before Suna is old enough to remember any of the immediate fallout.”

Spock nodded, accepting the logic of his words, but not knowing if he would ever have the courage to act on them.

He appreciated the sentiment of the hand still on his arm, but he longed for a hug.

\-----

** _One Month Ago_ **

T’Pring held Suna, swaying in an attempt to soothe her. Suna continued to cry. “Why will she not rest?”

“Because she is ill,” Spock said. “She has a cold.”

“Nonsense,” T’Pring said. “She is Vulcan. Vulcans do not catch colds.”

“She is part human,” Spock reminded her, an edge creeping into his voice. “I recognize the symptoms.”

T’Pring glared. “She does not have a cold.”

“She is congested, her nose is running, and she sneezes frequently. That is a cold.”

As if to prove his point, Suna stopped crying only to sneeze, a big glob of snot landing on T’Pring’s chest. She promptly resumed crying.

T’Pring set her down as if she could not let go of her fast enough, grabbing a tissue to wipe off her dress. Once upon a time, Spock had always been able to sense her love for their daughters, but that feeling had faded as she realized her daughters would be human no matter what she did, first with T’Lal’s rebellion and then with Suna’s complications. It was not entirely gone, but it was no longer enough to make a difference. “This is your fault. You and your weak human genetics.”

T’Lal had crept into the room during the argument, going to her sister, reaching through the bars of her crib to rub her arm. At T’Pring’s words, she turned her gaze on Spock, giving him a look that was both challenging and pleading. _I tried, _her eyes said. _I tried to fight for us, but only you can win. Please. Fight._

Without giving himself a chance to think it through, he stepped between his daughters and T’Pring. “Human genetics are not a weakness,” he said, letting the edge grow into a fully hardened voice. “Neither are emotions.”

T’Pring narrowed her eyes, tossing the used tissue into the trash. “Then why have you been scared of crossing me for four years?”

T’Lal took one of his trembling hands into hers, and he clung to the strength she offered. “Because one needs to be scared to be brave.”

“I will not let you take my daughters from me,” T’Pring warned. “My family is far more influential in the courts than yours. I would win any battle you could fight.”

“Why would you bother?” T’Lal snapped. “You want Vulcan kids. I won’t be that for you. If you take me away from my dad, I will make your life _miserable_.”

“You know she will,” Spock said, gripping Suna’s crib as well now, his heart thundering in his side. “She will have no compunctions about ‘poisoning’ Suna against you.”

“I would not have thought you had a spine, Spock.”

“I have a _heart_,” he retorted. “A heart that wants to keep and love these girls for as long as I shall live. You do not. Your love is conditional, and that makes it worthless.”

T’Pring drew herself to her full height, eyes chilled as ice, voice hard as diamond. “I have lived with this for long enough. I live with your feelings in my mind every day, your fear and the love you feel for _others_. I live with one daughter who brings shame to my family with her outbursts, and another who is not strong enough to fight off a cold. I agreed to marry you to help secure Vulcan’s future, and all I have gotten are two children who are, against all logic, more human than Vulcan. This is not the life I planned, and it is not a life I will put up with any longer. I take my leave of you, Spock. The risk of your human weakness complicating the breaking of our bond is worth being free of you.”

With that, she spun on her heel and marched out.

Part of Spock almost wanted to call her back. She was right: He had disrespected her over and over and over. Perhaps there was a chance that they could talk this through, and Suna would not be deprived of the chance to know her mother-

The front door did not slam shut behind T’Pring, but still T’Lal flinched, pressing against his leg, and he remembered why he had fought. Even if there was a way to heal his and T’Pring’s relationship, there would never be a way to heal T’Pring and T’Lal, and his daughter had to be his priority. He sucked in a shaky breath and sank to one knee, pulling her into a tight hug. “I am sorry,” he whispered. It felt so empty, but there were three years’ worth of things to apologize for, and at the moment, he had neither the strength nor the time to truly make up for all of them. All he could think to do was repeat “I am sorry.”

T’Lal shook her head, hugging him tightly in return. “You fought back for us,” she said. “That’s what matters right now. Just _promise me _that Suna will have a _choice_.”

Her acceptance of his meager apology filled him with more relief than he had ever thought possible. “I promise,” he vowed. “She will not struggle as we did.”

He wanted to live in the moment forever, to hold her close and know she would not leave or be taken from him, but behind them, Suna let out a wail. They broke apart, Spock picking her up while T’Lal went to call her grandfather. Spock would wait to see if their lives on New Vulcan could be salvaged, but when T’Pring’s brother came to fetch her belongings, he made it quite clear that Spock had only one option available: Leave.

As promised, Sarek supported him in that, and that comforted him, but not enough. He would take them in his ship, his small, slow ship, delivering them to the friends Spock had abandoned for his daughters, and for a month, Spock would not rest.


	10. Fight and Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting for you guys to get to one of the scenes in this chapter :) Enjoy!

Silence fell between them when he finished. Nyota flexed her fingers, as if fighting the urge to make a fist. “I see.”

He leaned away from her disappointment, ducking his head. “I wanted to answer your calls. I _did_. But I could not lose my daughter.”

She blinked, the fight leaving her in a heartbeat. “Wait, you don’t think we could possibly hate you after that, do you? That _I _could hate you?”

“You would have every right to.”

“Spock, look at me.”

When he hesitated, she cupped his cheeks and lifted his head to make him look at her. “Starting a family when your heart wasn’t with the mother of your children wasn’t one of your better ideas, but she _abused _the power that gave her, Spock. She _never _should have made you choose, and no one on this ship would blame you for making the choice you made. She hurt you and T’Lal and you are both _brave _for getting out of that. I don’t hate you for getting into that situation. I hate that T’Pring did that to you, I hate that I wasn’t there to help, but I do _not_ hate _you_.”

He responded to the only part of that speech that he knew how to answer. “You could not have known.”

“I could’ve tried,” she said. “Your father still invited me to visit after you stopped calling. I thought… If I had known it was more than him being polite, I would’ve come.”

“And I would not have accepted your help.”

“Maybe,” she murmured. “But I still could’ve tried.”

He searched her eyes, searched them for dishonesty or anger or any other sign that she was just sparing his feelings, but he found nothing but heartache. Tentatively, he asked the question that had run around and around his mind for four years. “Do you still support my decision?”

She smiled sadly, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as if brushing away a tear. “I know how lonely you felt when Ambassador Spock died. You wanted to fill the void he left, fill it with children like you and helping your people like he did, and Starfleet and I couldn’t do that for you. Not then. I can’t blame you for wanting to be somewhere with someone who _could _give you that, Spock. I could _never_ blame you for that.”

“I broke your heart.”

He meant to continue, but he just stopped there, as if that was the only crime he had committed lately that mattered.

“You broke yours too,” she said. “I felt that quite keenly before you severed our bond. Besides, we wouldn’t have T’Lal and Suna if you had stayed here, would we?”

Something in his heart lifted at her use of _we_. “No, we would not.”

She pulled away, her fingers trailing along his jaw a heartbeat longer than was strictly necessary. “Can we… can we backtrack a bit? To when you said you still love me?”

“I do not expect you to reciprocate-”

The ship lurched violently, throwing them to the floor as the lights died, plunging them into darkness.

\-----

Jim willed his hands not to shake as he swept his phaser around, clearing the _Cassandra_’s shuttlebay before the rest of the away team followed him out, Cupcake on his six. “It’s good to work with you again, Vice Admiral.”

Jim tried to smile at his old security chief in the dim red emergency lighting, knowing he didn’t quite make it look sincere. “You too.”

After they called out the all clear, Sulu, Scotty, M’Benga, and Kavanaugh stepped out behind them. Jim called in their safe arrival to Craig, then gave out orders. “Sulu and M’Benga, head for the bridge, see if she’ll fly. Kavanaugh and Cupcake, check the lower decks, see if you can find more clues about what happened. Scotty, you and I will head to engineering.”

They split up to follow their orders. Jim led the way to engineering, picking his way through the bodies of the crew. Some had been shot, others stabbed, still more caught in explosions. His heart clenched at every still body, every blank face, reminding him brutally of his worst recurring nightmare since he left for Yorktown: His entire crew wiped out in one mission while he was stuck behind a desk. Lost in the guilt, Jim stumbled over someone hidden in the shadows, grabbing the wall to keep from falling, and for a split second, the dead man beneath his feet looked exactly like Bones.

_Because you left me to die!_

Scotty caught his arm. “You all right, laddie?”

He wanted to vomit. He wanted to cry. He wanted to run. He just wanted Bones back, but he couldn’t get that, because he had abandoned Bones to face his worst fears alone, and he’d nearly died for it.

_I nearly killed my first real friend since middle school._

“I’m fine,” Jim ground out, straightening up and continuing towards engineering.

Scotty didn’t seem convinced, letting go of his arm only reluctantly. “Really? Cause ye seemed a bit pale on the shuttle, and yer hand’s been shaking a wee bit.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated.

“Look, I know these _Kelvin_-class lasses can bring up some memories for ya, particularly with Romulans involved-”

“It’s not that,” Jim cut him off. _God, don’t remind me of that right now._

“Then what is it?”

Jim stayed silent, clearing another corridor.

“It wouldn’t happen to be about your trip to medbay, would it?” Scotty pressed gently. “Hikaru mentioned ye wanted Leonard on this trip, and I cannae help but notice ye showed up with M’Benga instead.”

“Bones didn’t want to come,” Jim said shortly.

“Is it that he _didn’t_ want to, or that he _couldn’t_ come?”

His grip on the phaser tightened until he was sure the weapon would crack. “Didn’t. Couldn’t. Both. I don’t know.”

“Was he panicking when he said whatever it is he said?”

They reached engineering. Jim headed for the main station, prying his fingers off the phaser to holster it. “He might’ve been.”

“Jim.”

With that one word, spoken in a firm, gentle, fatherly tone, Jim’s stubbornness melted away and he slumped forward, leaning on the console. “Yes, it looked like he was having a panic attack.”

Scotty rested a hand on Jim’s shoulder as the engineer leaned over the panel, flicking switches and skimming readouts. “I think you’ve said the wrong thing a time or two during your own attacks. The doc’s a wonderful man who does a wonderful job taking care of you and the crew, but even he’s not infallible, especially in space. He was bound to break eventually, and it just happened to be after you transferred.”

_Transferred. Not left._

It was a relief to finally hear his abrupt mid-mission departure described as a simple routine transfer, but he knew it wasn’t accurate. He had left, pure and simple. He had gotten a little lost, a little depressed, once again uncertain of his place in the universe, and he had, as he always did, taken the first viable option to get out and run rather than work through his problems. And where had that gotten him?

Forgetting the mission for a moment, forgetting his seniority, Jim looked at Scotty, letting himself be the young, lost, hurting man he was beneath the uniform. “He doesn’t really hate me, does he?”

“Och, no, he could never,” Scotty reassured him. “A mission a few years back just got his mental wires crossed, is all.”

Jim let out a breath of relief. “How do I fix it?”

“That, Jim, you’re gonna have to take up with the doc. The two of you are overdue for a good heart-to-heart, I’d say.”

“Right,” Jim murmured. “Thanks, Scotty.”

Scotty straightened up, smiling and giving his shoulder a pat before moving to another station. “Any time, laddie.”

Jim’s communicator beeped. “Kirk here,” he said, flipping it open.

_“We’ve reached the bridge, sir,” _Sulu answered.

“Can she fly?”

_“It looks like her controls are responding fine, but that’s not the interesting thing: There are Romulan bodies up here.”_

Jim shot a glance at Scotty, who started to work faster. “Romulan bodies? Are you all right?”

_“Yes, sir, they were dead when we got here. I’m thinking they were trying to take the ship for themselves.”_

“Take the ship?” Jim echoed. “She’s ancient, what good would she do for the Romulans?”

_“Her tech may be outdated, but her data isn’t.”_

_Of course. _“See if they got anything. I’ll contact the _Enterprise_.” Hanging up on Sulu, he called the ship. “Kirk to _Enterprise_.”

_“Terrell here. What have you got?”_

“Romulans. Do you have an indication that they’re still in the area?”

_“No, not as of- Wait, is that- Shields up, red al-”_

The communication cut out in a burst of static.

The _Cassandra _shuddered, making Jim stumble. “Sulu, what’s going on?”

_“Romulans! They’re attacking the _Enterprise_, but they seem to be ignoring us.”_

_Damn it._

“Scotty, stay here, make sure she can power up but wait for my single. Sulu, monitor the situation and tell Cupcake and Kavanaugh to go to engineering and assist him. I’m coming up.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

Hanging up, Jim glanced at Scotty. “You gonna be ok on your own for a few minutes?”

“I can handle it,” he said, ducking beneath the station and prying the cover off. “You go on.”

Jim nodded and turned, running for the nearest turbolift. As he ran, only one thought ran through his mind:

_Please let the girls be ok._

\-----

Nyota hurried onto the bridge. If anyone cared that Spock was right behind her with T’Lal in his arms, that she had been unable to leave them behind after everything he had just revealed to her, they didn’t say anything. Barrett shot them a look but otherwise stayed focused on her work as the ship shook from another hit. Nyota relieved the ensign at her station and Spock stopped beside her, setting T’Lal down and tucking her between him and the console. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized Hikaru and Jim were gone, but she didn’t have time to dwell on that.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Terrell ordered. “Lieutenant, target their weapons systems!”

“I am trying, sir!” Pavel said, fingers flying across the controls. “But ze moment zey fire, zey cloak and mowe away; I cannot track zem fast enough.”

“Casualty reports coming in, sir,” Nyota said, hand pressed to her earpiece. “There’s a hull breach on deck six. One dead, three injured, seals in place and holding. Five injured in engineering, twenty more elsewhere.”

On the viewscreen, the stars seemed to ripple as the Romulan Bird-of-Prey decloaked. The second it appeared, it opened fire, hitting the _Enterprise_ with a rapid barrage of intense fire. The ship shook; one man leapt back from his console as it sparked dangerously. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the Bird-of-Prey vanished again.

“Sir, we can’t take anozer hit like zat,” Pavel reported.

“Then someone give me a way to fight back!”

“Our best option is retreat,” Barrett said.

“We have people on that ship, Barrett, I won’t abandon them.”

“Sir, with all due respect, if we don’t leave now-”

Another shot slammed into the _Enterprise_, this one fierce enough to fling people from their chairs. Nyota grabbed hers just in time to avoid hitting the floor; Spock grabbed the wall with one hand and T’Lal with the other. He looked longingly – helplessly – at his old station.

“Impulse and warp engines are down,” Pavel shouted. Another fierce hit, followed by “Shields down too!”

Just as Pavel called the warning, Romulans started beaming aboard the bridge in flashes of light. Spock rushed the nearest one, taking him out with a neck pinch, but the second one he reached knocked his hand aside and they fell into a brawl. Security guards ran towards the other two, but three more Romulans rushed in from the corridor, opening fire.

Nyota activated external communications. “This is the _Enterprise_ calling any ship within range: We are under attack. I repeat, this is the _Enterprise_, and we are under attack-”

Static exploded in her ear. Flinching from the deafening noise, she yanked out her earpiece and checked her readings. _Damn, they’re jamming us._

She settled for sounding the intruder alert, then hit the deck with every intention of shielding T’Lal until the fight was over.

Until T’Lal tugged on her sleeve, pointing into the fight. “Daddy!”

Nyota whipped her head up, searching for him in the chaos.

And saw a disruptor pointed straight at him.

He had won his fight, the Romulan unconscious beneath him, and was picking himself up, wincing when he put weight on his leg. He seemed completely unaware of another Romulan behind him, turning away from the guard he had just shot and aiming his disruptor at Spock.

Nyota was up and running before consciously deciding to move. “Spock!” she cried.

Spock spun, seeing her and then the Romulan, but he was already firing – Spock would never be able to dodge.

Nyota reached him, tackling him out of harm’s way, twisting to put herself between him and the incoming fire.

It hit her in the back, blasting her forward.

“Uhura!” T’Lal screamed.

_At least she’s forgiven me enough to miss me._

Her head cracked against the floor, the world going black in a spike of pain.

\-----

Leonard plunged into the frenzy of treating wounded crewmembers, throwing off the remnants of the panic attack to tend to them. He went from patient to patient, losing himself in the chaotic order of it all, snapping out orders and calling for hyposprays and praying Suna didn’t wake up and start crying at all the noise. Luckily, only two people had come in with severe injuries so far, both in surgery with other doctors, and a brief lull in the chaos gave Leonard the chance to check on his youngest patient.

She slept soundly, safe and secure in her biocrib, utterly unbothered by the shaking ship and noisy doctors. “Spock’ll make a disciplined Vulcan out of you yet, kiddo,” he said, looking at her vitals. Still a bit weak, but she was recuperating nicely. The rash was already starting to fade.

_“Intruder alert. All decks, intruder alert.”_

He looked up at the computer’s warning, heart skipping a beat. A security guard ran into the room, the distant sounds of a firefight echoing in the corridor behind him. “We have to evacuate the patients, let’s go!”

His staff hurried to obey, helping up the patients who could walk and transferring the others to anti-grav stretchers. “Doc, you got anyone who can’t be moved?”

“Yeah, two patients in surgery,” Leonard answered, slipping on the harness Spock had left and buckling Suna into it, going as fast as he dared. “I’ve got two people per patient.”

“Ok, I’ll stay with them,” the guard said. “You go with the others.”

“In a sec, I gotta grab her meds from my office.”

He went inside, the doors sliding shut behind him as he took the hyposprays and tucked them into a medkit.

It was only thing that saved him when the Romulans burst into medbay and opened fire.

He dropped below window level, sliding into the feeble hiding spot offered by a pair of shelving units. Knowing that wouldn’t work for long, he looked around for a way out, and his gaze landed on the entrance to the Jefferies tube that for some godforsaken reason the ship’s designers had stuck in his office, albeit with the courtesy to disguise the door as part of the wall. He’d had the crap scared out of him more than once by repair guys crawling out of it with no warning, but just now, he thanked God it was there.

He crawled inside, painfully aware of the baby strapped to his chest, and shut the door a heartbeat before Romulans burst into his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did nOt realize until writing this chapter that TOS-era Romulan ships were called Birds-of-Prey?? My whole life I thought Birds-of-Prey were just Klingon ships and now it bOtHeRs Me
> 
> Also, I posted a Whumptober fic today about T'Lal as an adult! It's called The Facts in the Misery, if you're interested


	11. Planning on a Whim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's proving harder than I expected to keep up with these twice-weekly updates, so I think I'll return to once a week. Mondays are proving to work better for me, so either the once a week schedule resumes this Monday or the following week. I hope to post this Monday and not make you guys wait a week and a half, but I might need to do more editing than I'll have time for this weekend, so we'll see how that goes (but if there is a 1.5-week wait, there'll still be 2 or 3 Whumptober fics up in the meantime! 2 of them even feature the girls)

Spock fell beneath Nyota, her grip on him tight and protective. Thus, it was easy to feel when the disruptor blast hit her, tearing her off and flipping her over him to fall a few feet away, hitting the floor with an audible _thud _that nearly made him wince. He flipped over, reaching for her, but before he could check for a pulse, a booted foot stepped in his way. “Get up.”

He looked up the disruptor barrel to the Romulan looming over him, then around the rest of the bridge. The conscious crewmembers were surrendering; T’Lal had found refuge beside Commander Barrett. T’Lal was trying to glare at the Romulan aiming at him, but when her attention slipped to Spock, her terror showed through her rage.

Carefully, Spock picked himself up, holding his hands up in surrender as soon as he was able.

“Smart,” the Romulan said. His hair was slick with either grease or too much gel – likely gel, based on the immaculate styling of both his hair and his uniform, which was heavily decorated. Spock assumed he was the leader. “Commander Spock, I presume.”

_Why does he know my name?_

All he said was “I am no longer a member of Starfleet.”

“Shame,” the Romulan said, glancing at the Romulans Spock had managed to subdue. “I’ll have to tell them they lost to a civilian.”

He gestured with his disruptor for Spock to join Chekov between his station and the viewscreen. “Take the others to the holding zones,” he ordered his comrades. “You two will stay here to work.”

“No!”

Spock’s heart stopped when T’Lal tore free of Barrett’s grip, every Romulan but the leader spinning to aim disruptors at her. Barrett grabbed for her, but she dodged, darting across the bridge and under Sulu’s station to latch onto Spock’s leg. She glared at the Romulans. “I’m staying with my daddy.”

One Romulan grabbed her arm, trying to pull her off. Before Spock could act, she sank her teeth into his hand. He let go with a yelp. Spock moved swiftly between them, Chekov stepping up to shield her from behind.

The leader’s eyebrow rose. “Rather spunky for a Vulcan, isn’t she?”

“We are part human,” Spock said, turning an icy glare on him. “So believe me when I say I will kill anyone who hurts her.”

He looked rather impressed. “All right,” he said. “The girl stays. Everyone else goes.”

“Wait,” Terrell said, “this is my ship. If anyone’s staying, it’s me.”

“Correction, my dear captain: This is _my _ship.”

With that, he shot Captain Terrell. He crumpled to the floor, unmoving.

“Take them now,” he ordered. “Once they’re locked up-” he gestured at the unconscious and dead bodies scattered about “-come back and deal with this mess.”

As the Romulans herded the crew off the bridge, Spock looked back at Nyota, sprawled on her back; with her injury hidden, she almost looked like she was sleeping. Almost. He couldn’t tell if he saw her chest move with a shallow breath, or if he had just imagined it. His thoughts drifted to Suna, and, for a moment, he could not stop himself from wondering if McCoy had suffered a similar fate, lying dead or dying down in medbay because he had tried to protect his daughter.

He held T’Lal a little closer, a little tighter, and shifted slightly closer to Chekov.

\-----

Jim could only watch in horror as the Romulan ship darted around the _Enterprise_, her attempts to fire back missing far more often than not. Her shields fell in minutes, and all Jim could do was listen to Sulu tell him that Romulans were beaming aboard all decks. If the crew was able to stun any of them, they couldn’t tell from the _Cassandra_, but they could tell that the Romulans were killing some of the _Enterprise_ crew. All the while, one question ran through Jim’s mind: Why they weren’t bothering with the _Cassandra_? Was it because they clearly weren’t a threat? Or was there something more?

“They seem to be taking the crew to the brig and cargo bays,” Sulu said as the initial invasion calmed.

“I don’t suppose you can tell who’s still alive?”

He tried, doing everything he could to boost the sensor strength, but he finally gave up. “I wish I could, but she’s too badly damaged.”

Jim squeezed his shoulder, reassuring himself as much as Sulu. “They don’t kill kids.” _I think._

Sulu twisted his wedding ring around his finger. “It’s not just the kids I’m worried about.”

“Yeah,” Jim murmured, glancing out the viewscreen. Looking at the _Enterprise_ drifting, the Romulan ship cloaked once again and probably hovering over her, he gained a new appreciation for the struggle Sulu had gone through before deciding to let Ben and Demora live on the ship with him. They were just a pair of civilians, always flying headfirst into danger alongside a thousand crewmembers who had agreed to risk their lives in the name of exploration and protection. Anomalies, diseases, attackers… anything could happen at any moment.

_If Spock or the girls don’t make it out of this… I’m the reason they’re out here._

_Pull it together. You won’t do any of them any good just being their friend right now._

Jim took a deep breath and straightened up, focusing on steadying his voice. “Do they know we’re here?”

Sensing the shift in him, Sulu steadied as well. “They must have seen us leave, assuming they’ve been lying in wait this whole time.”

“And why would we assume that?”

“Because of the data they were looking at,” Kavanaugh said. With no survivors to treat, she was at the science station, reading through the data the Romulans had been interested in. “They brought up schematics of the _Cassandra_, but they also seemed very interested in you, sir.”

“Me?” Jim asked, crossing the bridge to her side.

She gestured at the paragraphs before her. “They brought up data on the _Enterprise_ and her current and old crew, specifically Captain Terrell, Admiral Pike, you, Mr. Spock, Commander Barrett, Lieutenant Commander Scott, Doctor McCoy, and Lieutenants Chekov, Uhura, and Sulu.”

“The whole command crew,” Jim summarized, lingering over Pike’s file for a moment. “And skip the ranks, Kavanaugh, they’re such a mouthful.”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a little smile.

“So they’re interested specifically in us,” Jim said. “Any ideas why?”

“We are the only ship and crew who have successfully fought Romulans,” Sulu said.

“Terrell and Barrett haven’t,” Jim pointed out. “Unless there are more missions you guys aren’t telling me about.”

Sulu chuckled awkwardly. “No, just the one.”

“Besides, Pike barely counted,” Jim added. “He got kidnapped and tortured. Not exactly a winning show of force.”

“But he was listed as the _Enterprise_’s captain when you fought Nero,” Kavanaugh said, squinting at the files. “And Terrell is listed as the current captain. You might’ve been the Romulans’ third stop.”

“How insulting.”

She smiled again, swiping through the files. “They looked up details of the _Narada _battle. Perhaps they’re interested in the ship and crew that won that fight.”

Jim crossed his arms. “So it’s us they want.”

“Just our luck,” Sulu sighed.

“Maybe it is lucky,” Jim said, turning to contemplate the situation outside. _Maybe that’s why they’re not attacking us. If they want us, especially if they want us alive, that gives us leverage. _He flipped open his communicator. “How’s it looking, Scotty?”

_“We’ve got shields, and I can give ye minimal weapons if ye give me some time,” _he answered. _“She won’t last long, but she’ll be able to land a solid hit or two, _maybe _three.”_

“And that should be all we need. Keep working. Kirk out.” Tucking the communicator away, he turned to Kavanaugh. “You and me are gonna go searching. We need something to emit fake biosigns, and something else to mask ours.”

Sulu arched an eyebrow. “Care to explain?”

Jim beamed, the sort of grin that would’ve sent Bones running for the hills if he saw it. “Sulu, you’re going to surrender to the Romulans.”

\-----

Leonard only stopped crawling when he didn’t hear another soul for fifteen minutes and he reached a junction with no less than four escape routes. He slumped down, dropping his head back against the wall and taking long, deep breaths that gradually grew less shaky as the seconds crept by. He cupped Suna’s head in his hand, a silent reminder that he absolutely could not give in to the panic he could feel zipping along his every nerve.

“I don’t know how you’ve slept through this, kid,” he said. “It’s gotta be the hobgoblin genetics, right?”

Naturally, she didn’t answer him, too busy sleeping off her illness.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “you’re just like your dad, ignoring all of my illogical comments.”

Forcing himself to refocus on the situation, he opened the medkit and flipped open the communicator, tuning it to the emergency channel Nyota had showed him and lowering the volume before he spoke. “McCoy to away team. Can anyone hear me?”

_“Bones! We can barely read you, are you ok?”_

Leonard slumped in relief at the sound of Jim’s voice, and at the sound of relief in Jim’s voice. “Yeah, kid, I’m ok. I got away.” He bit his lip. “Listen, what I said in medbay-”

_“Later, Bones. We’ll talk about that later.”_

Listening to his tone, Leonard didn’t think he was angry. Still hurt, maybe – and rightfully so – but not angry. _I didn’t lose him. Thank God. _“Right. Work.”

_“Our readings show they’ve got just about everyone holed up in the brig and cargo bays. How’d you escape?”_

“Jefferies tubes. You know, the one in my office that one I’m always complaining about. Maybe I’ll stop that now.”

_“No you won’t.”_

“No, I won’t.”

_“Are you armed?”_

“Am I-” he started incredulously, staring at the communicator for a moment. “Yes, Jim, I’m armed with a medkit and a sleeping baby. I’m a doctor, not a security guard.”

_“A sleeping- Bones, did you crawl through a bunch of Jefferies tubes with Suna?”_

“I had her in the carrier when the Romulans got to medbay,” he said, trailing a finger over her psi points when she stirred. It was a rather empty gesture without a telepathic mind behind it, but it seemed to soothe her nonetheless. “Grabbing her meds is what saved me.”

_“Look at that. Three months old and already saving your life.”_

“Yeah, yeah, we’re proud uncles and all that jazz, just don’t tell her dad. I’d never live it down.”

He thought he heard something down one of the tubes. He squinted down it, but heard and saw nothing more. Still, it was a reminder of the danger of his situation. “Look, Jim, I have to move soon. You got a plan?”

_“You… could say that.”_

Leonard eyed the communicator. “Dare I ask what that means?”

_“It means we had part of something, and now we’ve got an inside guy to smooth the rough edges.”_

“Jim, I’m strapped to a sick baby. I’m not gonna be punching any Romulans.”

_“I wouldn’t ask you to. Assuming the Romulans make the move I expect they’ll make, we’ll make our move then, but we’ve only got six people over here – we need a way to knock out all of the Romulans before they can hurt the crew. Any ideas?”_

“One,” Leonard said. “Nitrous oxide might do it.”

_“Laughing gas?”_

“Yeah. Remember when the computer developed a personality and started playing pranks on all of us?”

_“How could I forget?” _Jim asked drily. _“My own ship printed ‘Kirk is a jerk’ on all my shirts.”_

Leonard barely suppressed a snort of laughter. “It hit us with laughing gas at one point, knocked Spock out cold because his physiology couldn’t process it.” _There’s a joke in there, Vulcans being knocked out by laughing gas. _“They’ve got some differences from Vulcan biology, but if they’re similar enough in the right ways, it should knock the Romulans out too.”

_“And Spock, T’Lal, and Suna.”_

“I’ll get a mask for Suna. As for Spock and T’Lal…” He closed his eyes, hating himself for saying it, but the needs of the many and all that crap Spock loved to go on and on about. “It shouldn’t do any lasting damage if we can’t warn them in time.”

_“If you’re sure…”_

“They’re part human and strong. That should give them some protection. Just promise me you’ll get to them as fast as you can.”

_“We will, Bones. Do you know where to go?”_

“One of your old hiding spots, right?” Leonard asked, twisting around to figure out which tube would take him there. It was the first time he’d ever had a reason to be thankful that Jim had discovered a bunch of remote corners in which to hide from him and the others when he was at his lowest points emotionally. “It’s that isolated, barely used environmental control station. The Romulans probably won’t bother with it. I’ll call if the plans change.”

_“Right. Be careful, Bones.”_

“You too, Jim. McCoy out.”

Putting the communicator back and closing up the medkit, Leonard resumed his crawl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl, T'Lal was nOt supposed to challenge the Romulans like that and she was sTrEsSiNg Me OuT when I wrote that. I love her guts, but. There was stress.


	12. Hope and Pain Go Hand in Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back! Sorry for the wait - I hope it's worth it!

Everything hurt.

That was the first thought in Nyota’s mind when she regained some semblance of consciousness. Her head throbbed. Her back burned. The rest of her ached from being unceremoniously dragged and dumped beside the other crewmembers who had been shot. Some instinct buried in the haze of the concussion had told her to fight that, but she hadn’t been able to so much as twitch.

Maybe that was a good thing. Focusing away from the pain, she turned to an old trick that always helped to calm her: Reciting important words and their meanings.

_Nyota. Swahili. Star._

_Spock. Vulcan. Early society builder._

_Enterprise. English. A project or undertaking, typically one that is difficult._

_Leonard. English. Lion-hearted._

_T’Lal. Vulcan. A plant with many thorns and tiny, delicate, beautiful flowers._

_Suna. Vulcan. A ray of light._

_Suna. T’Lal. Spock._

_T’Lal._

_Spock._

Awareness hit her like a splash of ice water. She bit back a gasp as the pain hit her anew, but she couldn’t stop her body spasming as the fight or flight instinct kicked in, trying to make her get up. She forced herself to lie still, taking a few moments to get her bearings, praying no one had noticed her wake. Carefully, she cracked her eyes open.

She was facedown at the back of the bridge. Through the blur of her lashes, she made out the figures of three Romulans, Spock, Pavel, and… T’Lal, clutching a fistful of Spock’s pant leg, glaring at the Romulans aiming disruptors at them. One was actually watching her warily.

“How are those engines coming along?” one Romulan asked. Based on his decorated uniform, Nyota guessed he was the leader.

_Wait. If they’re over here, and their ship is still out there, they would need communications. Which means… maybe they stopped jamming us._

“Slowly,” Pavel answered tersely. “We may work faster if you get our people medical attention.”

“The survivors can receive medical attention after you’ve finished.”

No one was paying attention to her. Slowly, carefully, she moved her head, checking behind her. Excellent – they had dropped her only two feet from her station. She just had to get to it without drawing attention to herself.

Slower than molasses, she reached for the base of her chair, wrapping her hand around it in a death grip. Lifting her head and legs ever so slightly off the floor to avoid the risk of bare skin or leather squeaking against the floor, she pulled herself forward, gritting her teeth against a moan of agony.

Reaching her chair, she went limp, giving herself a moment to recover. No one had turned around, their attention focused on Spock and Pavel and their work. No one, that was, except T’Lal, who was watching her out of the corner of her eye. Nyota pressed a finger to her lips, and T’Lal gave a single tiny nod. Satisfied she wouldn’t give the game away, Nyota looked back at her station.

_Now comes the tricky part._

Steeling herself against the pain, still moving with all the speed of a snail, she gripped the edge of her chair and used it to pull herself up until she could hook her elbow over it, letting that take her weight. The urge to scream as her wound stretched and shifted and burned was overwhelming, but she clamped her jaw firmly shut against any noise.

A glance back made her heart stop: The Romulan who was wary of T’Lal was starting to turn around.

T’Lal batted at his knee. “Hey. Why are you so ugly?”

He looked at her, affronted. “I am _not_.”

She arched her eyebrow. “I can’t tell if you actually believe that.”

“I don’t _believe _it, I _know _it.”

“You’re lying to yourself.”

Now biting back laughter, Nyota looked back at her station. Up to where she could see the controls, she pressed the mute button so no alerts or flashing lights would alert the Romulans. Then she activated a distress call, transmitting it on a specific frequency that would blend in with subspace noise to Romulan sensors, but Starfleet ships knew to monitor for emergency communications.

It went out without a hitch.

“Merik, stop arguing with the little girl about your looks,” the leader ordered drily.

Nyota sank back to the ground with the same slowness she had risen, ignoring how her arms trembled from the exertion. She pushed herself back to where she had started, scrubbing away a few smears of blood she’d left behind with her sleeve. Finally, she slumped back down into her original position, just as Spock told T’Lal to stop provoking the Romulan.

T’Lal smirked, shooting a glance at her, and Nyota did her best to smile back. But the pain and exhaustion overtook her, and she fell back into unconsciousness.

\-----

Spock was pretending to work more than he was actually working. Even if he could genuinely fix the engines from the navigator’s station, he still had to stall to give Jim as much time as he could to formulate a plan. It was illogical to expect a team of six aboard a heavily damaged old ship to be able to rescue an entire starship from a Bird-of-Prey, but Jim had proven himself capable of far more impossible feats in the past. Thus, all Spock and the crew had to do was bide their time until he made his move, making just enough progress to appease the Romulans without truly helping them.

Which had given him more than enough time to watch out of the corner of his eye as Nyota made her move, his heart thundering in his side the entire time, unable to do anything but let T’Lal risk Merik’s wrath to distract him.

_At least I know she is alive. For now._

It was with no small amount of relief that he was finally able to tell T’Lal to back off, wishing he could check on Nyota, unable to tell from where he stood if she had genuinely passed out or was simply pretending. What he could do, however, was attempt to fish for answers.

“Do you have children, Commander Tonol?”

Chekov glanced at him but said nothing. Tonol considered him with narrowed eyes for a moment before deciding it was a harmless enough question. “I have a daughter of my own, as a matter of fact. She’s not much older than your little girl.”

“I assume this raid is meant to protect her somehow.”

He smiled, making Spock’s skin crawl. “I know what you’re doing, Mr. Spock.”

“I also assume we are to be killed when our task is complete,” he said. “I would simply like to know why I am leaving my daughter without her father.”

“Appealing to my fatherly instincts won’t help you,” Tonol said. “But perhaps you will be relieved to know we won’t kill you just yet. Your daughter and most of the crew will even survive this incident unharmed.”

“That is most illogical.”

Now Chekov spoke. “Perhaps we should not conwince him to kill eweryone.”

“Rest assured, Lieutenant, nothing either one of you says will change my plans,” Tonol said. “We don’t care if Starfleet knows who and what we took. By the time they realize, we’ll be well within the safety of Romulan space.”

_Perhaps that would be true had you not underestimated Nyota._

“How wonderful for you,” Chekov said drily. Spock glanced at him, almost hearing McCoy’s voice in his tone and realizing suddenly how he had grown. Dry sarcasm certainly had not been in Chekov’s repertoire four years ago.

“And for you. You should be honored – you will help the Romulan Empire thrive for centuries to come.”

“What makes you think we will cooperate once you have left behind the rest of the crew?” Spock asked.

“We’ll still have the old command crew,” Tonol pointed out. “You two, Scott, McCoy, Kirk, Sulu. I had hoped to capture Uhura alive as well, but my man was a little too trigger-happy. My apologies for that.”

Chekov glared at him. Spock focused on a different part of his speech. “Kirk is not aboard the _Enterprise_.”

“Save it, Spock, we tracked your shuttle,” Tonol said. “Kirk, Sulu, Scott, and McCoy are over there, and we’ll get them in due time. It’s only logical, after all, for them to trade themselves for the thousand people currently being held prisoner, isn’t it?”

Chekov stiffened, hitting entirely the wrong button for the diagnostic he had been initiating. “Come now, Lieutenant, you’ll live for quite a while after returning to Romulus. If you behave, we may even let you see each other from time to time.”

Still, Chekov swayed, swallowing as if he were nauseous. Spock steadied him. “Are you all right, Chekov?”

“Better zan zat _rokovoy den' _we encountered zat one time,” he answered.

Spock nodded. “You will recover.”

He returned to his work with a little more confidence. It was an old code they had developed years ago when neither felt quite ready to talk through the guilt Chekov felt at failing to save Spock’s mother. At first it had been meant to establish how much the incident was hurting Chekov at that particular moment, but it had evolved over the years as a means of communication when they were not free to speak openly. Today, it told Spock that at least one of the men Tonol had listed was not, in fact, aboard the _Cassandra_, nor did he know they were still aboard the _Enterprise_. In short, there was at least one person able to move undetected throughout the ship and aid in whatever plan Jim would formulate.

Jim’s odds were looking ever so slightly up. And that was often all he needed to pull off a miracle.

Tonol peered at the readouts on their consoles. “Actually, I do believe ‘in due time’ is now. Open a channel to your friends, Lieutenant.”

Chekov did so, and hearing Jim’s confident, cheerful response confirmed Spock’s hopes.

As if sensing his slightly lowered guard, his head picked that moment to pulse with pain.

\-----

“All right, I’m going for it,” Leonard whispered.

Jim whispered, too. _“Good luck.”_

He hung up and tucked the communicator into his belt, setting his medkit to the side. Taking a deep breath, he cracked open the Jefferies tube door, wincing at even the slightest noise. Damage to the ship had turned him away from that isolated hiding place, leaving him with no option but to proceed to main engineering. Luckily, the environmental station was at the back of the room, only a couple yards away from the nearest Jefferies tube. That didn’t eliminate the danger, particularly when he was strapped to a baby who didn’t understand the need for silence, but he couldn’t just leave her unattended and defenseless in a tube somewhere.

_If she gets me killed, I’m coming back and haunting her father for all eternity._

A Romulan walked past, and Leonard held his breath until he had moved on. He counted at least a dozen more throughout the room, as well as some Starfleet engineers, including Keenser, but the environmental controls were unattended. Shockingly, they seemed to consider things like engines and weapons and shields more important.

_Good. Keep looking at those things._

He slid out of the tube, leaving it open a crack behind him. Tired of all the crawling he’d already done, his knees protested vehemently, but he forced himself to stay down and crawl to the panel he needed, one hand bracing Suna’s head. It faced the Romulans, a mesh wall rising above it, giving him plenty of shelter while still being able to monitor them. Checking to make sure no one had noticed him, he looked at the panel.

_Medbay systems, medbay systems, medbay systems… aha._

Medbay had a large supply of nitrous oxide stored in a secure room. There were taps to connect to when they needed to use it on patients, but the containers were also routed into the main system for emergency venting into space if the need arose. All it would take was a little adjustment to the distribution settings, and… voilà. He pressed the button to distribute the gas throughout the ship.

_Enjoy passing out, you Romulan bastards._

Opening the cupboard beneath the panel, he picked out a pair of oxygen masks. One was designed for small species like Keenser, and he fitted that carefully onto Suna. The other was standard for adult humans, and he put that on himself. Job complete, he started crawling back to the Jefferies tube.

Only for his communicator to chirp a very insistent alert.

He scrambled, yanking it off his belt and muting it, but the damage was done. “Hey!” a Romulan yelled. “What are you doing in here?”

For a moment, Leonard couldn’t respond, staring at what had sent the alert: Spock’s cortical monitor. _He’s suffering an attack in the middle of all of this. Is he with a doctor? Is he-_

The Romulan snatched away his communicator. “I said, what are you doing in here?”

Leonard glared up at her. “Going for a leisurely stroll.”

She gestured with her disruptor. “Get up.”

Leonard stood, shielding Suna as best he could. “Whatever you do to me, don’t hurt her.”

“What kind of monster do you think I am?” she snapped. “I wouldn’t shoot a baby.”

“Really? Because your people nearly killed my best friend when he was a baby,” Leonard shot back.

She narrowed her eyes, sweeping her gaze over him, taking him in. “You mean the _Narada_, don’t you? You’re Doctor McCoy.”

Leonard eyed her warily. _How the hell did you know that?_ “What if I am?”

“It means you get to live.” She took a step closer, and Leonard’s vision threatened to narrow down to the tip of her disruptor, remembering the arrows that had been aimed at him every time he regained consciousness for three long, harrowing days. “Why are you wearing a mask?”

With no small amount of effort, he forced himself to keep looking at her face. “I’m sick,” he lied. “It’s an airborne illness; the mask is to keep me from infecting others.”

She considered him for an endless minute. Behind her, the first Romulan started to cough, one of his comrades ordering an engineer to stop giggling. Leonard might’ve had to fight off a smirk if he weren’t so busy trying not to remember the last time he was held hostage. He tightened his grip on Suna as much as he dared, clinging to her like an anchor, fighting to breathe normally and keep looking the Romulan defiantly in the eye.

_Any time now, Jim. Any. Time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rokovoy den' = fateful day in Russian. Tbh I think it's a shame we never really got any Spock & Chekov content, particularly considering they're linked by something pretty traumatic, so I couldn't resist dabbling in their relationship a bit


	13. Recapturing What's Theirs

Just as Jim had predicted, the Romulan commander had called for his, Sulu, and Scotty’s surrender in exchange for the safety of the _Enterprise _crew. Asking for Bones too had put a slight wrench into their plans, but it had been easily compensated for by making Cupcake a biosign dampener as well as Jim and Scotty. The emitters they had fabricated wouldn’t stand up to close scrutiny and the dampeners had only tiny power supplies, but assuming the next couple minutes went according to plan, that wouldn’t matter.

“Sulu, go.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

Standing in the _Cassandra_’s transporter room, Jim monitored his progress on the console as Sulu took the shuttle out. He alone was aboard, but the sensors registered four human biosigns, all holding steady; so far, so good. Kavanaugh was on the pad, awaiting her cue, while Cupcake stood beside Jim. Bones hadn’t made contact to confirm that he had started the gas, so none of them knew if it was safe to beam over, but the three of them wore oxygen masks, ready to charge into the fray anyway.

Sulu flew forward, headed straight for the Bird-of-Prey. _“This is Lieutenant Sulu to the Romulans: We’re ready to surrender in exchange for the safety of my crew.”_

If the Romulans thought it odd that Sulu was speaking for them instead of his superiors, they gave no sign of it, simply nabbing him with a tractor beam and starting to pull the shuttle in. “Get ready, Kavanaugh,” Jim said, inputting the coordinates. She nodded, finger hovering over the trigger of her phaser. “Sulu, now!”

Sulu sent a powerful feedback pulse along the tractor beam. The Bird-of-Prey struggled to keep its hold on him, but an explosion tore along its emitters, knocking out the ship’s power. A single shot from the _Cassandra_, aimed at its weapons systems and landing a solid, destructive hit, guaranteed temporary safety for the _Enterprise_. “Scotty, now!”

_“Command codes inputted, sir – _Enterprise_’s_ _shields are down!”_

Jim activated the transporter, beaming Kavanaugh to her target. As soon as she disappeared, Cupcake jumped onto the pad, and Jim was a second behind, pausing only to set a delayed transport to their own target. In a flash of white, they left the _Cassandra _behind, returning to their own ship with phasers blazing.

\-----

Surrounded by coughing Romulans and laughing engineers, Leonard almost didn’t hear the shooting start. The moment he did, he hit the deck with all the careful speed he could manage, diving into the shelter of the environmental station and curling around Suna, unable to do anything more but pray it was Starfleet people winning the fight. He clenched his eyes shut and prayed like hell, struggling for breath the whole time.

_Don’t shoot her don’t shoot me don’t shoot her don’t shoot me don’t shoot her-_

“Bones?”

He lifted his head. “Jim?” he rasped.

Jim came running around the corner, and _never _had Leonard seen a more welcome sight. “Bones!” he exclaimed, dropping to his knees beside him. “I came back,” he said earnestly, helping him sit up. “I came back this time.”

Leonard threw his arms around the kid and squeezed tight, sucking in his first easy breath since Hikaru commed him. “I knew you would, kid,” he said, clinging to him in relief as best he could with Suna between them, unsure if he was reassuring himself or Jim or both of them. “I knew you would.”

Jim faltered, not immediately returning the hug, and Leonard tensed, wondering if he had misinterpreted his voice over the communicator, if he really _had _lost him.

Then Jim brought his arms up, and though he was careful not to squash Suna, there was powerful relief in the way he hugged Leonard close. Leonard let out a heavy breath of relief that he’d been holding for four years, dropping his forehead against Jim’s shoulder and finally, _finally _letting himself believe that everything would be ok again.

“Sirs,” a gentle voice interrupted.

They looked up to see Hendorff standing a few feet away. “Right. Romulans. Come on, Bones,” Jim said, helping him to his feet. “Cupcake, you stay here, give our guys masks and secure the Romulans. Once their heads clear up, make your way to the brig and do the same.”

Hendorff nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Jim patted Leonard’s back, letting go only to lead the way with his phaser. “We’re off to the bridge. Got your medkit? Kavanaugh called, Uhura and Craig are in trouble.”

He ducked into the Jefferies tube to retrieve it. “So’s Spock.”

“Then let’s go.”

Following Jim through corridors that could be full of Romulans waiting to shoot them, Leonard felt better than he had in years.

\-----

By the time Spock realized something more than another attack was contributing to his headache, he, T’Lal, and the Romulans were coughing, and Chekov was struggling to hold back giggles. “What- what’s happen- happening?” Tonol asked through violent coughs. He was trying to train his phaser on Spock and Chekov, but he had to double over, clutching his head.

Through the haze of pain, Spock recognized what he was feeling. Lying on the floor where he had collapsed, he pushed himself up onto his elbow, reaching for T’Lal. “Hold your breath as much as you can,” he told her, pulling her shirt up to cover her nose and mouth. She nodded, helping him do the same.

Unfortunately, Tonol noticed and put the clues together. “Gas,” he rasped, waving at his men. “Check that station-”

The door slid open, blue phaserfire flying through it. Tonol whipped around, but a blast stunned him before he could fire, the others taken down within seconds. A nurse ran in, a mask on her face, and she hurried to Chekov’s station to input a command. “Kavanaugh to Vice Admiral Kirk: Shields are restored and Sulu is docking. There are people up here who need immediate medical attention, including-” she glanced over her shoulder “-including Captain Terrell and Uhura.”

_“I gotta grab Bones, then we’ll be right up. Kirk out.”_

Kavanaugh crossed the bridge, glancing at the Romulans as she went, and opened up the compartment beneath the environmental station. Jogging back, she handed three gas masks to Spock. “Put those on; we can’t turn the gas off until we have more people to secure the Romulans. I have to see if I can stabilize anyone who’s been shot.”

Spock nodded, helping T’Lal with hers before donning his own. He was pulling himself up, wearily contemplating how to keep the hysterically laughing Chekov still long enough to wrestle his mask on, when the doors opened again, this time admitting Jim and McCoy. “Spock!”

“Suna!” T’Lal exclaimed. “Uncle Jim!”

Spock slumped back in relief upon noticing his other daughter strapped safely to the doctor. Jim came over to them, giving T’Lal a hug. “I told you I’d be back, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” T’Lal smiled at him. “I guess you’re trustworthy.”

He smoothed her ruffled hair, smiling back at her. “Awesome.”

McCoy, meanwhile, tried to go straight to the unconscious crewmembers. Spock was ready to protest, but Jim spoke first. “Bones, before you get all bloody, you might want to take off the baby.”

McCoy looked down. “Oh. Right.”

He crouched beside Spock instead, unbuckling the harness. “She slept through the whole thing,” he told Spock as he handed her over. “Never had a chance to be scared or breathe in the gas. She’ll be just fine.”

“Thank you,” Spock said sincerely, cradling her in his arms. She babbled contentedly, nestling against his chest, and he was relieved to feel that her temperature was nearly returned to normal, the rashes on her arms beginning to fade. T’Lal kissed the top of her head, leaning on Spock’s arm and holding her sister’s hand tight.

McCoy smiled, giving Spock a pat on the shoulder. “Any time, Spock. What about you? I got the alert.”

His head ached and he now fully understood the sentiment behind their words when humans said they wanted nothing more than to hibernate for a month, but he nodded. “I will live. Tend to the others.”

“Is Uhura ok?” T’Lal asked worriedly. Spock rubbed her shoulder soothingly, watching as McCoy went over to check on her.

“The guards are dead,” Kavanaugh reported as he knelt beside her, “but Terrell and Uhura have a chance.”

T’Lal glanced up at Spock, and he nodded. “She will be fine. McCoy is an excellent doctor.”

“I heard that!” he called, flashing a smirk.

Spock pursed his lips.

Off to the side, Jim was struggling with Chekov. “Chekov, put the damn mask on,” he grumbled. “_Chekov_.”

Gladly looking away from McCoy’s smugness, Spock watched Jim, debating whether it was worth getting up to help. He had gotten him to his feet, but the young lieutenant was playfully dodging his attempts to force the mask on, giggling all the while. “Come _on_, kid, you gotta work with me.”

In response, Chekov poked him in the eye, and somehow his giggling intensified. “Boop!”

Suppressing a sigh, Spock handed Suna to her sister and used the console to haul himself to his feet, gesturing for T’Lal to stay put. He went around to come up behind Chekov, pinning his arms to his sides. Jim was finally able to put the mask on, latching it firmly into place. “Keep him there until he’s sober,” he muttered, rubbing his eye.

“Yes, Captain.”

The words slipped out instinctively, making both him and Jim freeze, looking at each other. Between the young girls a few feet away and Jim’s grey Yorktown uniform, it couldn’t be more obvious that everything had changed, and yet here they were, falling right back into old, familiar patterns of behavior. Awkwardness of the slip aside, it was… comfortable.

Amazingly, Jim smiled. “I do need a first officer for the next few minutes.”

Spock arched an eyebrow. “Would it not be logical to pick a member of the crew?”

“I’m a little thin on people who aren’t high on laughing gas.”

Spock tipped his head in acceptance. “Then it would be my honor.”

Jim’s smile grew into a grin. “Perfect. I need a sitrep, Mr. Spock.”

“Yes, Captain.”

With more ease of purpose than he had had in years, Spock sat down to gather the required information.

\-----

As Spock started to assemble the sitrep, Jim went to the communications station. “Kirk to Scotty. You holding up over there?”

_“Aye, she’s a sturdy lass, this ship. The Romulans will have power back in just a wee bit – how are you doing?”_

“We have some dead and injured and most of the crew is high, but I think we’ll be ready when the Romulans can fight again,” Jim answered. “Looks like we’ve been sending out a distress call over here, so we shouldn’t be on our own for long.”

_“Glad to hear it.”_

Jim switched to an intraship channel. “Cupcake, what’s your status?”

When he answered, the channel picked up a lot of background laughter. _“It’s a bit – no, John, put Keenser _down_ – a bit chaotic, but the engineering crew is mostly back with us and we’ve started putting the Romulans into the brig in place of our own crew. You can shut the gas off.”_

“Understood. Send some people to the bridge with stretchers – we’ve got wounded, Romulans, and dead we need to move. Oh, and keep Barrett down there to help with the Romulans, would you? I don’t want her going off on me about regulations right now.”

Jim could hear the smile in Cupcake’s voice as he answered _“Of course, sir. Hendorff out.”_

After ending the communication and switching off the gas, Jim knelt by Bones. He had torn off the burned, shredded bits of Uhura’s uniform and was carefully cleaning her wound; Kavanaugh was doing the same with Craig. “How are they?”

“They’re in shock, but I think they’ll live,” he said, setting aside his antiseptic wipe to set up a hypo. “Nyota escaped organ damage, and luckily for Terrell, the Romulan that shot him aimed for where their hearts are, not human hearts. I definitely need to get them to medbay, though.”

“People are coming to help with that,” Jim said. “We’re almost out of this.”

“Hurry it up, would you?” Bones said, injecting the hypo just beside her wound. “I haven’t slept in ages.”

He said it with his usual levels of annoyance, no panic to be heard. Jim clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “I’ll work on it. You just keep them alive.”

“Wait.” Bones caught his arm as he started to stand, making him turn back. “I want Spock in medbay as soon as it’s safe.”

“I’ll get him there,” Jim promised.

Across the bridge, guards and medical staff began to pour in, led by Sulu. Jim and Bones stood up to meet them, Bones directing his staff while Jim went to Sulu. “Good to see you in one piece.”

“Good to be in one piece, sir.”

“Spock,” Jim called, “what’s our status?”

He strode over to meet them, stopping with his hands clasped behind his back, and if it weren’t for the civilian clothing, Jim would’ve sworn they were back in the old days. “Impulse power is restored, but we have no warp engines. Shields are at thirty-three percent, and we have partial phasers. Nyota managed to send a distress call, and we have received responses from five ships. They will take some time to arrive, however.”

“We’ve fought with less,” Jim said. “Sulu, take your station, and make sure Chekov’s sober enough now to take his. Spock, I need you at communications. Let’s hope we can keep this from turning into a fight.”

They left for their stations, leaving Jim to take his. He turned around slowly to face his old chair.

Bones came up quietly beside him. “What’s going through that genius head of yours, kid?”

“The last time I sat there, I felt like a fraud,” he murmured, looking over the controls he could operate without even looking, at the black leather that was starting to show its age. _I made that stain when I spilled my coffee._ “I was just taking some dare way too far, trying to be like a father I never met.”

Bones squeezed his shoulder. “A fraud wouldn’t have been able to take back the ship with only seven people and no casualties.”

“We’re not out of danger yet.”

“But we’re a lot closer than we were,” he pointed out. “And I trust you to take us the rest of the way to safety.”

_I trust you._

Jim looked around. At Spock, sitting at his assigned station as if he had never left. At Sulu, who had followed his orders without question. At Chekov, still a bit disoriented but pushing on nonetheless. At Bones, at his side as he always was. At Uhura, who had told him to go to the bridge as if she knew he belonged there. Out the viewscreen in Scotty’s general direction, all but alone on a damaged ship, trusting his insanely risky plan to get them through. At Terrell, who still believed he was the _Enterprise_’s rightful captain.

_They still trust me to be their leader. After all this time, after I left them behind, I’m still their captain._

Taking a deep breath, Jim sat down.

The chair seemed to welcome him with open arms. He slid right back into his old favorite position, eyes skimming instinctively over the controls to check them, immediately more comfortable on his bridge than he ever had been at that Yorktown office.

_This is where I belong._

He looked up at Bones with a grin.

Bones was smiling too. “Welcome back, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Kavanaugh moment I desperately wanted to include but the timing didn't work out (she wasn't supposed to become a whole character but. I love her. And if I write the sequels, she'll definitely be in them):
> 
> "Are you up for this?" Jim asked.  
"I didn't earn a black belt in three different forms of martial arts just to let a few Romulans get between me and my patients," Kavanaugh answered, taking her place on the transporter pad and powering up her phaser. "I've got this."


	14. Making Way for the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super long cause I spent last night and today adding in two new scenes. Enjoy!

“Three, two, one, lift.”

Leonard and a security guard shifted Nyota from the floor to the stretcher beside her. Once she was settled, he activated it and rose with it, holding her steady until it reached its hover height. He ran his tricorder over her, just to check that the movement hadn’t hurt her further.

“Doctor?”

He turned around, closing his tricorder. “She’ll be fine, Spock.”

“I know,” he said. He reached for her hand, hesitated, and withdrew, clasping his hands together behind his back.

“She wouldn’t mind,” Leonard said, shifting so he didn’t stand between them. “I’d guess you’ve been dying to check her pulse for yourself for a while now.”

Spock looked at him for a long moment, then at Nyota. Slowly, he reached out again. He found her pulse point with two fingertips, a tender, delicate touch. Finding it weak but steady and _there_, his eyes closed, a small breath escaping him. Leonard looked away, letting him have the precious moment to himself.

His gaze fell on the girls. T’Lal seemed none the worse for wear after her brief exposure, still sitting next to the navigator’s station with Suna in her arms, laughing at whatever Pavel was saying. “I can take those two to medbay, if you want.”

Spock straightened up, returning to professionalism. “Yes, please,” he said. “That is what I was going to ask.”

“Really?” Leonard asked. “You were going to suggest being separated from them?”

He glanced away at the wording, but his voice was steady and unhesitant. “They will be safer in medbay,” he said. “Unless, of course, you are suggesting that you are not a suitable guardian.”

Leonard huffed. “As if.”

“I could entrust them to Ben instead,” he went on. “It would take time to locate and ask him, but I am sure he would be amenable-”

“Stop,” Leonard said, pointing a threatening finger at him as he walked over to the girls, “pushing your luck.”

Spock’s expression was alight with mischief as he called “T’Lal, McCoy will take you and your sister to medbay.”

_He knows I can’t in good conscience wipe that smug expression off his face right after that moment. That’s why he chose now to screw with me._

_Damn hobgoblin._

With a glare that very clearly promised retribution later, Leonard collected the girls and escorted them and Nyota to medbay.

\-----

_“This is Subcommander Kixa of the _N’Larr_: Surrender now, _Enterprise_.”_

_Right on time._

The bridge had been cleared of extraneous personnel, with the patients headed to medbay while security had taken the Romulans to the brig. The gas had been fully switched out for the ship’s normal atmosphere, leaving Jim free to recline comfortably in his chair, free of his mask. “Sulu, put us between the _N’Larr _and the _Cassandra_, bringing us about to face the Romulans head on. Chekov, route all available power to shields, have phasers at the ready.”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison, both seeming to relish every move made to follow the orders.

With that taken care of, he gestured at Spock to answer. “Subcommander! I’m Vice Admiral Kirk, though I feel like you might already know that. How’s your ship doing?”

_“Well enough to defeat yours, Vice Admiral.”_

Jim tsked. “Really? Because we can still see you, which means your cloak is offline. The fact that you’re talking instead of fighting indicates your weapons aren’t doing so hot either, and if you’re still here, I’d guess the same goes for your self-destruct function. That, or you just don’t want to die here, in which case, it would seem we agree on something. How am I doing so far?”

Silence.

“You know,” Jim said, leaning forward, “this would be much easier if we could see each other, wouldn’t you agree, Subcommander?”

She sounded like she spoke through gritted teeth. _“We don’t need to see your faces to destroy you.”_

“Still feels like an empty threat to me, Kixa – can I call you Kixa? Too bad, I’m calling you that.” He stood up, pacing around his chair – not from nerves, but from adrenaline, the familiar rush of being poised on the edge and knowing just how to jump to protect his crew. “See, you guys were a little messy with what you left behind on the _Cassandra_. We noticed you’d been digging through some data, notably about the _Narada _incident and the command crew involved in defeating Nero. You researched a few of the wrong people, but you seemed to get the gist of it.

“Now, it seems a waste to come all this way just for some information. You could’ve gotten that from any starbase along the Neutral Zone, probably without ever crossing it. It stands to reason, then, that you came here for something a bit harder to catch, something that required baiting a trap by killing an entire starship, and you guys seemed pretty interested when Sulu faked his surrender. Based on all of that, it’s my theory that you guys came over here to capture the crew that beat the _Narada_. Right?”

_“Commander Tonol could have told you all of that.”_

“He did, actually,” Jim admitted. _I’m just stalling. _“My first officer says he explained all about how you guys planned to capture us, take us to Romulus, squeeze us for information, and eventually kill us all. But the crew isn’t the only piece to the puzzle, is it? You want the _Enterprise _too. She is the ship that beat the _Narada_, after all.”

_“If you know what data our people looked at, then you would know that we know that the _Enterprise _won through sheer luck. The technology that truly destroyed the _Narada _was destroyed with that ship.”_

“You know your stuff,” Jim said, making a noise of surprise, loud enough to be certain the channel picked it up. “I thought you’d be rather stupid, seeing as you guys threw away your Vulcan heritage.”

The viewscreen flickered, and the image of a glaring Romulan woman replaced the damaged Bird-of-Prey. Her dark hair was tied tightly back in a severe bun, and her nostrils flared with rage. _“We are far more intelligent than those peace-loving weaklings.”_

Jim shot a triumphant glance at Spock, who just arched his eyebrow at Kixa’s comment. “Kixa, I gotta say, I’m more scared of my peace-loving weakling of a first officer than I am of any Romulan. He’s come closer to killing me more often.”

Spock’s eyebrow rose higher.

Kixa lifted her chin. _“Then you are a fool, and we will teach you a lesson.”_

“Nope,” he said, popping the “p.” “You need me alive, remember? My crew, too. Oh, yeah, and you still don’t have the power to fight back. Not successfully, anyway.”

_“Your ship is weak.”_

“I’d say we’re on equal footing right now,” he pointed out. “Otherwise one of us would be shooting.”

She huffed. _“You Starfleet types are too weak to shoot first.”_

“I don’t think it’s weakness. Being willing to risk talking and putting down the weapons takes more guts than shooting first. Shooting first is just glorified panicking.”

Sulu ducked his head, pretending to cough into his arm. “Backup is two minutes out,” he whispered.

“We’re willing to beam your people back to your ship and let you limp back to Romulan space from there,” Jim offered, stepping forward and clasping Sulu’s shoulder to acknowledge the alert. “You’ll need to be escorted, of course, but you won’t be sneaking back over to our side without a cloak.”

_“Why would we need to accept such an offer?”_

“Because of my other brilliant theory: You’re _scared _of us.”

Kixa spluttered. _“As if the Romulan Empire could ever fear the group of – what is the word? – _nerds _that make up the Federation.”_

“Oh, but you do,” Jim said, crossing his arms. “The _Narada _incident was nearly ten years ago, and yet you only dared cross the border now. This might just be my ego speaking, but I don’t think it’s really a coincidence that you waited for the _Enterprise _to have a different captain, too. You never have attacked me directly during this little mess, not even when I had only a tiny away team on a severely damaged ship. I was just a cocky cadet and I _still_ managed to outwit a Romulan crew with a twenty-fourth century ship at their disposal. With the help of my crew, of course, but the point stands.”

She snorted. _“Your ‘point’ means nothing. It’s entirely false.”_

Jim shrugged. “Maybe it is. The truth is, I don’t really care.”

The proximity alert began to blare, and Jim knew who it was based on the grin on Chekov’s face and the horror on Kixa’s. He returned to his chair, settling down and crossing his legs, leaning back comfortably. “I’ve been stalling, Subcommander, as I’m sure you just realized. How do you like your odds now?”

“Ze _Constitution _has ze _N’Larr _locked in a tractor beam, sir,” Chekov reported. “Ze _Defiant_, _Aurora_, _Excalibur_, and _Arlington_ also stand ready to fight on your orders.”

Jim lifted his chin. “Surrender, Subcommander. You’ve lost your chance to flee.”

Kixa’s jaw worked furiously, frustrated rage smoldering in her eyes. Finally, she lowered her head, angling towards someone offscreen. _“Power down weapons and lower shields.”_

Jim straightened up, killing his cocky persona. “A wise decision, Kixa. You may return to the Empire someday, but first you will answer for the slaughter of the _Cassandra_’s crew.”

She spat at him, hurling angry words at him in Romulan. Jim gestured for Spock to cut her off, turning to his friend. “Do I wanna know what she said?”

“No.”

“Fair enough.” He clapped his hands together and stood. “Well done, gentlemen, you had to do absolutely nothing. Spock, signal that we’re ready to head back to Yorktown. I want Scotty and M’Benga beamed back to the _Enterprise_, but have the other ships send medical and engineering staff to the _Cassandra_ – she and her crew deserve to be shown some respect after everything they’ve been through. Then get Barrett and a replacement crew up here, and you and I can head to medbay. You too, Chekov. Sulu, you can find your family.”

“I object to that, sir,” Sulu said. Jim furrowed his brows, confused.

Until Sulu continued. “I had to turn the ship around. That’s not nothing.”

“I had to arm ze phasers,” Chekov piped up.

“And your ego was certainly speaking,” Spock added drily.

“Don’t quibble over the details,” Jim teased. “All that matters is that I stalled long enough to avoid a fight.”

“In other words, you were able to run your mouth endlessly,” Spock said. “That is hardly an extraordinary feat for you. Nor a rare one.”

“Spock?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“You’re fired.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Sulu and Chekov doubled over laughing.

\-----

“Who’s the cutest baby in the galaxy? Suna is!”

Suna squealed in delight as Jim lifted her up high and brought her swooping back down. His grin was just as bright as hers, and when he tucked her against his chest, he gave her a little kiss on the forehead. Spock watched from his biobed beside them, his legs loosely crossed so T’Lal could curl up in his lap and sleep. “Do you want to be a father, Jim?”

Rather than the startled look Spock had expected in response, Jim furrowed his brows in contemplation. “I dunno,” he said slowly, watching Suna wriggle around to press her head against his heart, her tiny mouth gaping in a contented yawn. “I never thought I’d make it this far, honestly. Thought I’d be dead in a ditch or something before I hit thirty. Hell- uh, heck, sorry Suna- I _was _dead before thirty, just in a warp core, which was a step up from a ditch, I guess. But now… Now I have a future, and if I’m lucky, that future might even include someone who I’d want to have kids with. So I guess the answer is…”

He looked up. Not at anything in particular, just up. “Holy shit. I wanna be a dad.”

“Jim.”

He winced, very belatedly covering Suna’s ear. “Whoops.”

“She will not remember. Yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll work on it.” He laid her down in the biocrib, smiling when she grabbed his finger. “Maybe I’ll have a son.”

“Why a boy?”

“Between you, Sulu, and Bones, we’ve got four girls already. I like to be different.”

Spock tipped his head in weary acceptance. “Indeed you do.”

Jim laughed, making his way around the biobed to sit in the chair he had pulled up before Suna got restless. “So, what about you? What does your future look like?”

Spock closed his eyes, the heaviness of his exhaustion and the residual ache of his head hitting him anew. “I do not know.”

“Craig wants me to captain the _Enterprise_ again,” Jim told him. “I’m accepting. If you want, I’d take you back. We could make that little stint on the bridge a permanent thing again.”

He shook his head, running his fingers through T’Lal’s hair. “I do not know if that is wise. If I am killed in the line of duty, T’Lal and Suna could be sent back to their mother. If that happens-”

“It won’t,” Jim stated. “You said it yourself: T’Pring left you. She wouldn’t want them back, and there’s a bunch of people on this ship who would adopt them in a heartbeat. And this is assuming we would let you die in the first place, which we wouldn’t.”

“That is an illogical promise.”

“It’s still one we’ll all make.”

And Spock knew it was one they would fight to keep, but he could not give in on that alone. “It is still risky.”

“It is,” Jim allowed. He scratched his chin. “Ok, say you don’t rejoin Starfleet. Where would you go? Earth? A colony? What would you do for a job? Would the doctor there be as good as Bones or M’Benga when you and the girls get sick?” He paused, then added more quietly “Would you ever be happy?”

With every word, Spock felt like he was shrinking. “I would have my daughters,” he said feebly.

“But you wouldn’t have us,” Jim countered. “You wouldn’t even have your dad this time.”

Spock looked away. “Perhaps that is why I cannot stay.”

“Wh- oh.”

“Precisely.”

Jim sighed. “What I said when you first showed up, the thing about you not deserving our love – you know I was just saying that to get your attention, right? We never stopped loving you, and we never will. You always have a place here.”

“Yours is not the chief opinion I am concerned about in that regard,” Spock admitted. “No offense intended.”

“Offense taken,” Jim joked. “Talk to Uhura before you reject this completely. She’ll probably surprise you.”

“She usually does,” Spock agreed. “All right. I will _consider _rejoining Starfleet.”

Jim grinned. “Awesome.”

\-----

Leonard worked on the wounded for several hours after the attack. The injuries ranged from mild concussions to severe wounds like Nyota and Terrell’s, but thankfully, they lost no more than those killed immediately in the raid. He was able to send most back to their quarters, escorted by friends and family, everyone relieved they’d made it through the day. He sent Chekov away last, checked on the patients that had remained, and was finally free to go to the curtained-off bed in the corner. He ducked through and froze, wishing he had a camera.

Suna was tucked in her biocrib, sleeping soundly on one side of the biobed. On the other side, Jim was passed out in a chair, one arm draped over the biobed and serving as a pillow. Spock laid on the biobed, T’Lal tucked in his arms, father and daughter both sound asleep.

He might’ve mocked them for it four and a half years ago. But with the girls beside them and given the hell they’d gone through to get here, he hated to begrudge them the peaceful moment of togetherness. And it was pretty damn sweet.

But he did need to talk to Spock. “Spock,” he whispered, nudging his arm. “Spock, wake up.”

He groaned. “Doctor.”

“I know, I know, you’ve barely slept, you’ve been in a fight, held hostage, you had an attack, and you’ve been gassed,” he said. “You have every right to want to pass out for a year, but we need to talk about these attacks.”

Spock slitted his eyes open. “I have told you-”

Leonard cut him off, holding up his PADD. “Kavanaugh and M’Benga had time to look over the readings we got, and they found something.”

His eyes opened fully, his head lifting, and he dared to look at the PADD with hope. “The headaches come from a disruption in the telepathic center of your brain,” Leonard said, handing it over and hopping up to sit on the edge of the biobed. “Each bond you make rewrites your brain a little bit to accommodate having another person connected to your head all the time. When you break that bond, it’s a physical wound that needs to heal. When you break a second bond before your brain can recover from that first wound, it’s like pulling off a scab, but with something as intricate as a Vulcan brain, the effects are worse. Between your attacks, your brain is trying to heal the damage of the broken bonds, but sometimes it can’t cope, and tries to revert.

“That’s what they think these attacks are: Your brain trying to rewrite itself again, reaching out for a connection that it can’t find anymore. It realizes its mistake after a few minutes, but not before hurting you in the process and setting back your recovery.”

Spock skimmed the findings, careful not to disturb T’Lal with his movements. “Does this suggest a cure?”

“We discussed that, and we came up with two options. Neither is perfect, but I’d say it’s better than suffering random migraines for years.”

“I would agree. What are they?”

“The first is the simplest and the hardest. It doesn’t require any of my potions, as you so eloquently call them, but it does require a certain type of participant that’s hard to come by.” At Spock’s look, Leonard cut the unnecessary explanation and took a deep breath. “You could fix this by establishing another bond. That way, when your brain reaches for that connection, it finds it, and there’s a lot less fixing to do.”

“Another bond,” Spock repeated. He set the PADD down, brushing his fingers lightly through T’Lal’s hair. “I have no one to bond with.”

“You do have one option,” Leonard reminded him gently. “Talk to her before you reject that completely.”

“Everything does seem to be leading to a conversation with her,” he muttered.

“What?”

“It is unimportant. What is the second option?”

“This is the one with potions,” Leonard said, swiping through to find it on the PADD. “It would require suppressing the telepathic center of your brain. If we dampen its ability to reach out and make connections, it’ll hopefully stop trying, and instead focus its energy on repairing the damage. The problem with that is, if it even works, you would definitely be left without telepathy for the duration of the treatment, and if we leave it too long, we could permanently damage your telepathy, or if we stop too soon, you could have another attack that would undo all of the healing and we’d have to start the process all over. It’s a balancing act, and we have no precedent for it.”

“My options are risk another bond or lose my telepathy indefinitely,” Spock summarized. He shifted uneasily, glancing at Suna. “I do not know how to raise an infant without telepathy.”

“Humans do,” Leonard said. “If you stay with us, we could give you all the help you need.”

“I know you would, but I still do not…”

He trailed off, and when Spock looked at him, his human eyes round and scared, Leonard was irresistibly reminded that, for all his discipline, Spock was younger than him, still struggling to find his place in the galaxy. He had lost his mother, his planet, his people, and his counterpart almost all at once, and then left his family behind for a wife who left him with an illness and two daughters he couldn’t possibly raise alone.

“You’re ashamed.”

Spock started. “What?”

“You’re ashamed,” Leonard repeated. “That’s why you won’t talk about what went wrong with your marriage. That’s why you don’t want to talk to us. You’re ashamed of what you did.”

Spock dropped his gaze. “I abandoned the people who loved me to raise my daughters in a household on a planet where we could not be ourselves. I do not regret their lives for a moment, but… I ruined everything else.”

“_Love_, Spock. Not past tense.”

Spock shot a glance at Jim, but said nothing.

Biting back a sigh, Leonard rested his hand on Spock’s knee. “Spock, everyone f-” he glanced at the girls “-messes everything up at one point or another. I was so focused on my career that I lost my daughter in a divorce that forced me into the space that terrifies me. Jim was so focused on getting revenge for Pike that he nearly got us all killed. You ditching us all because you wanted kids? That’s just par for the course on this ship. The important thing is that you came _back_.”

“Scott said that as well,” he murmured.

“Maybe because we’re right. Human love runs deep, Spock – it can patch a lot of wounds. Including ones left by abuse.”

Spock looked up sharply.

“It’s not that hard to put the pieces together,” Leonard said. “T’Lal’s anger and defensiveness, the sudden communication cutoff, the way you hate being separated from them… I’m not gonna make you explain the details after the day we’ve had, but I get the picture. I have since you came back.”

He sank back to the biobed, the fight leaving him, and without it, he was just exhausted. “She made me choose between the crew and my daughters.”

“You don’t have to explain, not right now,” Leonard hurried to assure him, resting his hand on Spock’s knee. “But if it helps… I’d have done the exact same thing if Jocelyn had ever given me the choice between you guys and Joanna. Wanting to be there for our daughters doesn’t make us bad men, and no one’s gonna blame us for loving them. No one.”

“That… does help,” he allowed. Looking at least the tiniest bit reassured, he curled around his daughter, his eyes drifting shut. “And I will tell you. Eventually.”

Leonard smiled, giving his knee a pat. “I know. Now go back to sleep, hobgoblin, and _stay_ asleep. Jim and I’ll take care of the girls.”

As Spock obeyed doctor’s orders without hesitation for perhaps the first time in his life, Leonard fetched himself a chair, kicked his feet up on the end of the biobed, and passed out right beside them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there are only two chapters left. However, they could need extensive rewrites, and the problem with that is that I'm trying to use NaNoWriMo to work on an original novel. So, I will do my absolute best to keep this fic running on schedule, but I have to prioritize the writing that can make me money, so if I miss next week or the rest of November, that's why. This fic will 100% be all wrapped up and posted by the end of 2019, though, I promise!


	15. Together At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am BACK! And more importantly SO IS STAR TREK!!! I'm still screaming about the ST 4 news I WAS WAITING FOR THAT MOMENT FOR WHAT FEELS LIKE FOREVER MY BABIES ARE COMING B A C K
> 
> Also happy last month of the decade! Enjoy this super long penultimate chapter in celebration!!!

Vulcan homes were kept strictly clean. Furniture and art were carefully arranged while everything else had its place tucked securely away with not a speck of dust or disorder to be seen – it was all coldly logical, as if in defiance of the ever-shifting sand dunes of the scorching desert. In contrast, Spock’s mother had insisted on maintaining a bit of clutter in the private rooms. Spock had not understood her reasoning until Nyota’s quirks of disorganization had become familiar to him, bringing with them a warmth that transformed them from just another place that housed them to their home.

The Sulus’ quarters overflowed with that cluttered warmth. Family photographs were scattered across nearly ever flat surface, the plants both men and their daughter loved to grow blooming with life and bursting with color and spilling from their pots, Demora’s artwork and awards hung proudly on every wall. Sitting at their dining table beside Ben, sipping freshly brewed tea and watching Sulu and Demora teach T’Lal human card games on the floor, Spock could hardly imagine a place more full of love.

“Living on the ship has been good for Demora,” Ben was saying. “She sees amazing things that she would never get to see planetside, she loves her teacher and the friends she’s made here, and she gets to be with both of her dads. It’s actually given her far more stability than she had on Earth, where she was shuffled back and forth between two divorced parents while her third was off in deep space for months or years at a time.”

“Stability is desirable,” Spock agreed. _I would certainly have far more support here than… anywhere else. _“But living on a ship is also dangerous.”

“Sometimes, yeah,” Ben said. “I won’t lie, I’ve been terrified for her more than a few times. But I had that fear on Earth, too. Car accidents, random muggings, earthquakes, you name it, I worried about it. Nowhere is completely safe, but I know Hikaru, her teacher, and the crew will do everything in their power to protect her. She’s gotten some bumps and bruises, but she’s still here and she’s still happy. She loves her life here.”

Spock watched T’Lal triumphantly slap the pile of cards, grinning. She had been held hostage just yesterday, watched people get hurt and killed, had had a nightmare about it, and yet she looked happier now than she ever had. No one was ridiculing her emotions and she had a friend to play with – it was a low standard, but one that had never been met on New Vulcan.

“They’ll be adding some more family-centric facilities when the _Enterprise _gets back to Earth for the refit,” Ben went on. “There’ll be more families coming aboard, and more resources to care for them. T’Lal and Suna would thrive here. I’m sure of it.”

Spock was mulling over his words when his communicator beeped. Flipping it open, he hesitated at the message he received.

Ben set his cup down. “Can I tell you something, one divorced man to another?”

Spock flipped it shut, looking at him. “I am not divorced. Not from Nyota, at least.”

“You broke the telepathic bond you had with the woman you love. Ring or no ring, that’s a divorce in my book.”

He accepted the analogy’s validity with a tip of his head. “Advice would not go amiss right now.”

“I know all too well what falling out of love looks like,” Ben said. “You and Nyota haven’t done that. I can see that, Hikaru can see that, everyone can see that. But there are still wounds that need to heal. So go to her, hold her hand if she wants it, let her be the mother your children deserve if she wants that, but don’t jump back into the romance just yet. Even mutual divorces take time to get over.”

Spock shook his head. “I do not expect her to want a romantic relationship. I hurt her too much for that.”

“The human heart isn’t a logical thing,” Ben pointed out. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘The heart wants what the heart wants’?”

“I have, yes.”

“Well, her heart wants you,” Ben said. “If you put enough effort into making up for leaving her, you’ll earn back the right to be wanted.”

Spock looked down into his tea, his mind drifting yet again to the possibility of a bond. He was tired of living in fear of the next attack, and he certainly did not want to lose his telepathy. But Nyota had every reason to refuse, and he had just escaped a bond that had been used to control and manipulate him for years. Beneath the pain and exhaustion, he had rather appreciated having his mind to himself again.

Did he really want to put either one of them through another bond, even for the purpose of healing?

“Spock? You ok?”

He pushed aside thoughts of bonds. “I am simply thinking,” he said, standing up. “Thank you for the tea and advice.”

Ben smiled, standing with him. “Any time. Do you want us to watch T’Lal?”

Spock looked back at her, still playing happily on the floor. She wore human clothes today, sneakers and black leggings beneath a dark purple dress, and she had untucked her hair to cover her ears. Were it not for her slanted eyebrows, Spock would almost think she was human. “No, thank you,” he answered. “She deserves a say in what happens next.”

\-----

“Are you sure you’re ok with this?”

Craig, who had been filling out transfer paperwork for the last twenty minutes, groaned. “Jim, I’ve told you, I don’t want to be a captain anymore. I wouldn’t be filling out paperwork with a disruptor wound in my side if I had doubts.”

“I’d help, but, ah-” he nodded at Suna, sound asleep in his arms and contentedly sucking her thumb “-uncle duties called.”

Craig chuckled, swiping to the next page of signatures. “You always were a sucker for kids.”

“I am,” Jim agreed. He tilted his head, covering the tip of Suna’s ear with a thumb and imagining her with blonde hair and blue eyes. _Would I even be a good dad? _he wondered. _I didn’t exactly have a good example growing up._

With a triumphant flourish, Craig finished off one last signature. “There you go, Jim,” he said, turning the PADD so Jim could see the screen. “You are once again the captain of the _Enterprise_.”

Jim’s heart soared at the words on the screen. Once the _Enterprise _was back in shape, he would get to fly again, to explore again, and he would do it surrounded by his family. “Thank you, Craig,” he said with every ounce of sincerity a human being could muster. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Oh, I do,” Craig said, setting the PADD down. “I’ve heard their stories, both professional and personal – they were always your crew, and she was always your ship. I’ve just been keeping them safe for you.”

Jim looked across medbay to Uhura’s bed, where she and Bones were talking. “What about Barrett?” he asked. “If Spock decides to come back.”

Craig waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about her. Once she sees that someone like you will be her new captain, she’ll put in for transfer by herself. We won’t have to do a thing.”

“Someone like me?” Jim mimed a toss of his hair, batting his eyelashes. “I hope you mean young and handsome and brilliant.”

Suna chose that moment to stir, swiping her slobber-soaked hand across Jim’s shirt. He sighed. Craig laughed. “Sure, Jim. Sure.”

“Excuse me,” Jim said, getting up. “Bones! I need a towel.”

He and Uhura looked up as he neared them, both looking far too amused by the spit stain on his shirt. “I have one in my office,” Bones said. “Come on.”

Jim followed him in and traded Suna for the towel. As Jim scrubbed at the spit, he watched Bones melt before her, all of his gruffness fading as she snuggled into him, one ear pressed against the heartbeat that fascinated her every time a human held her. Looking at him with her, Jim could easily imagine the bright, hopeful young man he’d been before the divorce ruined his life. “You seem better,” he broached carefully.

He sobered, shifting his grip on Suna, but his gaze remained soft. “It’s easier when we’re not on a life-or-death mission.”

Taking that as a sign that he was ok to keep talking about it, Jim dragged a chair around the desk and sat next to him. “What’s easier?”

Bones glanced at him, then at the bottle of bourbon on his desk, and after a long moment, he sat without reaching for it. “There was a mission four years back,” he started. “Long story short, I got stabbed, kidnapped, and held hostage for three days. It wasn’t the attack that got me, I think – it was the waiting for rescue. God, I hate waiting. And you were the last thing I thought about when I was really conscious, so I guess the anxiety just latched on to you from there. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make you feel guilty.” He huffed, looking at the ceiling and taking a breath. “Guess I did that anyway.”

“I pushed,” Jim said. “I saw that you were panicking, but I kept pushing.”

“I’m supposed to be the strong one,” Bones said. “You pushed because I’ve never fallen apart before. I’m not _supposed _to.”

“Bones, if you’ve taught me _anything _since I met you, it’s that everyone breaks,” Jim reminded him. “Everyone’s supposed to be strong in one way or another, but no one can be strong forever. Not humans, not Vulcans, not captains, not doctors, not anyone. You have to fall down to get back up.”

Bones narrowed his eyes. “When did you get wise?”

“Sometime around when you showed up to fill my head with less crime and more fancy metaphors. It’s all your fault.”

“Damn straight,” Bones said. “And, uh, I do forgive you, by the way. For not telling me you were leaving. I got over that a long time ago.”

“I believe you,” Jim assured him. “But next time, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I will,” Bones promised. Then, with uncharacteristic hesitation: “Does this mean we’re good?”

Jim slugged his shoulder lightly, careful of Suna. “Yeah. We’re good.”

The door slid open, and Spock leaned inside. “Could you watch T’Lal?” he asked. “I wish to speak with Nyota alone first.”

“Of course,” Jim said, already gesturing for T’Lal to join them. “You wanna learn how to hack Uncle Bones’s computer?”

She clambered eagerly onto his lap. “Yes!”

“Do not teach her that,” Spock said wearily.

Jim grinned, scooting closer to the computer. “I make no promises.”

He glanced at Bones, who shook his head in equally weary assurance, before leaving for his talk. Jim flashed a mischievous grin at Bones and pulled his computer over, ignoring his protests that he was helpless to enforce with Suna in his arms.

With their attention focused on entertaining the girls, the bourbon sat to the side, forgotten and untouched.

\-----

Even busy fidgeting with the positioning of both her biobed and her body to find the perfect balance between sitting upright and not straining her wound, Nyota was acutely aware of when Spock entered medbay with T’Lal. He seemed just as aware of her, somehow managing to look around the entire room without ever quite looking at her, before ducking into Len’s office with T’Lal. She settled on a position as he withdrew without T’Lal, and she seized the opportunity his glance back offered for breaking the ice. “Is Jim threatening to corrupt your daughter?”

“Yes,” he said, pulling up a chair. “Perhaps staying aboard so he can do so is a bad idea.”

She chuckled. “You know, you should stop telling people you don’t joke. Otherwise, I know one Vulcan who lies.”

“Perhaps I am not thinking of myself as Vulcan when I tell jokes,” Spock retorted.

She shook her head affectionately. “You do love semantics.”

“I do.”

Silence fell around them, heavy and awkward. Nyota licked her lips, searching for a way to break it. “Len says you’re considering rejoining Starfleet.”

He nodded. “Jim has offered me the position of first officer again if I want it.” He paused, dropping his gaze to the floor. “And we have nowhere else to go.”

“What about Jim’s family? Winona would be happy to take you in until you can get settled. Or my parents would, if you wanted somewhere warmer than Iowa…”

She trailed off when he shifted back, and his hand suddenly felt precious in hers, like the slightest breeze could and would tear him away. “Would that be easier for you?” he asked, his voice nearly a mumble.

“What- No!” she exclaimed, realizing what he was asking, what he had inferred. She squeezed his hand, holding him tight. “No, Spock, it wouldn’t be easier. I’ve _missed _you these last few years. We all have. You belong with us.”

He looked up, a little reassured but still hesitant. “And with you?”

Nyota sighed, smiling sadly. Lifting her other hand, she cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb tenderly across it. “I hope so, one day. But for now… I think you know the answer.”

He nodded, leaning into her touch. “I do,” he said quietly. “And I agree.”

“But?” she asked, leaving her hand on his cheek for as long as he wanted the comfort. “There’s always a but.”

“There is,” he conceded.

“What is it?”

He lifted his head, letting her hand fall away. “Doctor McCoy has offered two possibilities for treating my attacks. The first involves suppressing my telepathy indefinitely.”

His grip on her hand tightened, the only sign he showed of how much that idea terrified him. She knew how much he valued it – it could save lives, it would be invaluable for communication until Suna was older, and it was as much a part of him as hearing was a part of her. For him to give that up… “And the other option?”

He hesitated, avoiding meeting her eyes again.

“Spock, tell me. Please.”

The words spilled out in a rush. “The second option is another bond.”

_Oh._

She bit her lip. “How… um, how risky is the first option?”

“It could go perfectly well,” he said. “Or, if it is suppressed for too long, I could lose my telepathy permanently. If it is stopped too soon, however, I could suffer a complete relapse and have to resume the process all over again.”

Nyota squeezed his hand, this time for herself as much as for him. “I’ll do it,” she found herself offering. “If it’s the best way for you to heal, I’ll do it.”

He lifted his chin at her words, and she thought it might’ve been in relief – until he spoke. “No.”

She faltered. “But you just said-”

“I know what I said,” he stated. “And I know what you said. While a bond is perhaps the _fastest_ way to heal, it is not the best.”

“Spock, if this is about you thinking you don’t deserve it-”

“It is not,” he said, gentle but firm. He took a deep breath and easily looked her in the eye for the first time since he entered medbay. “I am deeply grateful for the offer, Nyota, but I cannot accept it. Perhaps under different circumstances we could learn how to be bonded with no romantic relationship, but after what T- after what T’P-”

His hand tightened on hers again, his eyes clenching shut, but before she could say anything, he took a shuddering breath and muscled through it. “After what she did, I do not want another bond so soon, and after what I did, neither do you. More importantly, if it turns out we cannot handle it, I cannot risk it ending badly and hurting T’Lal more than she has already been hurt. If I must lose my telepathy to protect her, then I will lose my telepathy.”

“Ok,” she murmured. “If you’re sure that’s what you want...”

“I am.”

He spoke without hesitation, but the depths of his eyes betrayed the fear and uncertainty beneath the Vulcan demeanor. “Come here,” she whispered, cupping the back of his head. He leaned down obligingly, and she pressed a tender kiss to his forehead. He leaned into it, and she broke away only reluctantly, tilting his chin up with a soft touch. “You are a brave, brave man and a wonderful father. T’Lal and Suna are lucky to have you.”

At the mention of his daughters, he straightened up and she drew back. “There is one more thing I wish to ask you.”

“Name it.”

“Their biological mother did not know how to love them,” he said, “but I still wish for them to have one. If you are not opposed, I would like you to fill that role.”

Nyota smiled, beginning to tear up. “If T’Lal will have me, I would be honored.”

He nodded, pulling his hand out of hers. “T’Lal,” he called.

She spilled out of the room far too quickly to have been playing with the computer like she was supposed to, a sheepish Jim standing behind her waving at them. He stayed put as T’Lal headed over to them, the doors closing behind her. Spock pursed his lips. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“…No.”

He settled her on his lap, smoothing her hair. “What have I told you about lying?”

“I didn’t lie,” she protested. “Is it really eavesdropping if I couldn’t hear anything?”

Spock looked to Nyota for help, but she just shrugged. “You love semantics.”

“No evading what I tell you to do with semantics,” Spock said, narrowing his eyes at Nyota. She smiled innocently.

T’Lal stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “That’s no fun.”

“Do you know what else is not fun? Extra chores.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Fine. No more trying to eavesdrop.”

“Thank you. Now,” he continued, “how would you feel about living aboard the _Enterprise_?”

She twisted to look up at him, her eyes wide. “We can stay?”

Spock nodded. “I can return to my old post.”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. “Yes, I wanna stay. I would _love _to stay.”

Spock smiled, tiny and warm. “I am glad,” he murmured, hugging her close. “Would you also be all right with Nyota taking on some of the responsibilities your mother once had?”

That did not garner the same enthusiastic reaction. She pulled out of the hug, glancing at Nyota before looking back at her father. “What does that mean?”

Spock looked at her in silent question. “I could watch you when your father is busy,” she suggested. “I could share a meal with you every once in a while. If you have questions or need advice, my door is always open.”

“But I wouldn’t have to call you mom.”

“No,” she answered. “I will only do what you’re comfortable with. I want you to be happy here, and I won’t ask you to do anything that jeopardizes that.”

T’Lal considered her, fiddling with her grandmother’s _vokaya _amulet. “You risked your life to protect us yesterday.”

“I did,” she said. “And I would do it again if I need to.”

“And you won’t make my sister choose between being human and being Vulcan.”

“Never.”

She played with the necklace a moment longer. “Ok,” she said slowly. “You can be… part of my family.”

Nyota smiled, wiping at the tear that slipped from her eye, knowing that this moment of acceptance would be one she treasured for the rest of her life. “Thank you, T’Lal. I promise to do my best.”

“Hey, Spock, someone’s hungry,” Jim called, leaning out of Len’s office with Suna in his arms. “Do you wanna do it, or are you still busy?”

Spock was about to answer when Nyota spoke first. “Can I feed her?” she asked tentatively.

“Go ahead,” he allowed.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she greeted softly as Jim placed Suna in her arms. Len came out with the bottle and a hypospray, taking the opportunity to give her the medication. She sniffled at the injection, batting in the hypo’s direction, but Nyota quickly distracted her with the bottle. She calmed, reaching for the bottle instead, but she found Nyota’s finger first and wrapped her tiny little fist around it. Nyota beamed, looking from her to Spock and T’Lal.

_I have a family._

For the first time in four and a half years, she didn’t feel like part of her heart was missing.

\-----

Jim withdrew to Bones’s office as Suna and Uhura settled in. Bones followed, the doors closing behind him, and Jim leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, watching the family through a window. “Looks like things are finally getting back to normal.”

“Whatever the hell normal is on this ship,” Bones said, sitting at his computer to check the damage Jim had done. “How did you two obliterate my high score in solitaire in just a few minutes?”

“I’m a genius and she’s a Vulcan. It’s not hard.”

He huffed. “Shut up.”

Jim pushed off the wall, plopping back into his chair with a smirk. “Just imagine how much worse it’d be if I ever have a kid.”

Bones arched an eyebrow. “You? A dad? Where’d that come from?”

He shrugged. “Spock asked when I was playing with Suna yesterday. Made me think. I’ve always loved kids, and I’ve been good with them ever since Tarsus, but I’d never thought about having any. Until…”

“Until you watched your best friend get to have and love two little kids of his own,” Bones finished. “I can see how that’d be motivational.”

“It’s not just that,” Jim said. He leaned back, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Bones, you know better than anyone else alive what I was like when Pike recruited me. I was lost, and I was broken, and I was lonely. What I needed then was a family, and that’s what Pike gave me the chance to find. Coming back here after Yorktown, seeing T’Lal and Spock going through the same thing, knowing I’ll do anything to keep Suna from ever feeling like that… It reminded me of that. And now, you know, I’m older, I’m wiser, I have a life. A real one. Maybe, someday, I can do for a kid in need what Pike did for me.”

“That’s… wow.” Bones switched his computer off, sitting back and crossing his arms. “I was ready to mock you, but that’s… Damn, Jim.”

He chuckled. “I can be deep. I just… I dunno, would I be any good at it?”

“At being a dad? Jim, you were the third adult in this galaxy that T’Lal trusts, and convincing her to do that barely took, what, two or three days? Demora loves you too, and you’re amazing with the younger crewmembers and every other kid I've ever seen you with. Any kid would be lucky to have you as their dad.”

Jim looked at him, searching for any hints of hesitation. “You really think so?”

Bones smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “I know so, kid.”

Jim ducked away, batting him off. “If I’m a dad, will you stop calling me kid?”

“Never. Any other significant changes you wanna tell me about?”

“Well,” Jim said, “I’ve been thinking about getting this crew a therapist.”

“Jim, that might be the only good idea you’ve ever had.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I'm moving to my new house on Thursday, so I'll be pretty busy and there might be another mini hiatus, but as I promised before, this fic will be done before 2019 is over!


	16. Three Weeks Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are: The final chapter. I wanna thank all of you not only for reading what's turned out to be one of my favorite fics to write, but for making it my most reviewed fic of 2019, and second-most of all time on AO3! It means the world to me. Thank you so much.

** _Three Weeks Later_ **

Spock knew McCoy was almost done with his brain scan when he asked “And you’re still absolutely sure about this, right?”

He barely held back a sigh. “I am as certain as I can be, Doctor. Please stop asking.”

“Right. Sorry.” He set down the tricorder and picked up the hypospray. “M’Benga finished this up yesterday – it should suppress your telepathy without interfering with anything else. Once it’s taken effect, I’ll do another scan, and then I want you to have weekly appointments to check your progress.”

“Must they be weekly?”

“Come on, medbay’s not _that _bad. I only make it insufferable to deter you guys from needing to come back here, and that’s not an option for this.”

Spock’s eyebrow rose dubiously.

McCoy sighed. “Look, I know it’s annoying, but this has never been done before, so I want to be careful. Hopefully this’ll all be over in a few months and we can stop entirely, but if it looks like it’ll take longer, we can reevaluate. Ok?”

“All right,” Spock acquiesced grudgingly.

“Good. You ready?”

Spock eyed the hypospray. “I believe I am as ready as I will ever be.”

McCoy nodded, putting the hypospray to his neck. There was a hiss of air and a brief prick, and it was over. It was so simple. So quick. Yet Spock could not help leaning away slightly, lifting a hand to cover the injection site as if he had been wounded. McCoy dropped the hypospray onto the tray with a clatter, and Spock watched it settle, feeling as if the suppression of his telepathy should have taken a far grander action.

“It’ll take a few minutes to kick in,” he said. “I’d like you to wait it out here, just in case.”

Spock nodded, forcing his hand down. “That is logical.”

He took the empty hypospray away, dropping it in a bin to be cleaned for reuse. Spock straightened and clasped his hands tightly in his lap, trying to focus on not fidgeting instead of the phantom feeling of his telepathy fading with every second that crawled past. _I should have brought something to work on._

McCoy returned, hopping onto the biobed beside him. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

“No.”

“Is there anything you don’t wanna talk about?”

“Why would I volunteer a subject I do not wish to discuss?”

He gestured around at all of the empty biobeds. “Because I got nothing better to do than annoy or counsel you. Pick one.”

Spock pursed his lips. “Surely you could find Jim and annoy him instead.”

“Not while your meds are kicking in. Pick a topic, hobgoblin.”

Spock said nothing.

“Pick a topic or else _I’ll _pick one, and you definitely aren’t gonna like it.”

He looked upwards. “Doctor, you make me understand why humans pray to various omniscient beings for patience.”

McCoy beamed. “I’m flattered, Spock.”

“It was not intended as a compliment.”

“Nope, but it was accepted as one.”

Spock fell silent, knowing any further argument he made would just be twisted to McCoy’s advantage.

McCoy deflated. “All right, fine, I’ll stop annoying you, but in the opinion of your kindly family doctor, you _do _need a distraction, so come on, Spock, talk to me. There’s gotta be something.”

Spock narrowed his eyes, looking at him. “I am beginning to suspect that you already have a subject in mind.”

“Tell me what you think it is and maybe I’ll admit I do.”

He lowered his head, conceding defeat. “It has been three weeks. I still cannot say her name.”

“Yeah, we noticed that,” he admitted. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Suna deserves to know where she comes from,” Spock said. “How can I tell her if I cannot say her mother’s name?”

“You have a few years yet before she starts asking,” he reassured him. “Spock, you were in an abusive marriage for years, but you didn’t start thinking of it as abusive until I called it that three weeks ago. It was a trauma, and you’ve _just _started coping with it. You’ll probably be able to talk about her again by the time Suna gets curious about her, but you’re gonna need time. Anyone would.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.” He got off the biobed, picking up the tricorder. “You and T’Lal have gotten a hell of a lot happier and more confident in these last few weeks alone – once you’ve been here for a few months or years, you’ll probably be as close to your old self as you can get. Your mind will heal, just like your brain will.”

He ran the tricorder around Spock’s head again. “Ok, it looks like that’s done it. Care to try a mind meld?”

Spock unclenched his hands and lifted his right hand to McCoy’s face, his fingers instinctively settling on the spots he had been trained to find since childhood. He closed his eyes, the familiar words rolling off his tongue as he reached for his friend’s mind. “My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts…”

Nothing happened.

His mind remained alone.

Slowly, he reopened his eyes, lowering his hand. McCoy watched him, setting down the tricorder. “You doing ok? Does anything hurt? Is anything feeling weird?”

_‘Weird’ is an understatement. _“Nothing hurts,” he answered, standing up. “As for the rest… I will cope.”

“All right,” he said, stepping back. “Tell me immediately if _anything_ feels off. Now get to work, hobgoblin.”

Spock slipped past him to make his way to the bridge knowing that, when he returned to his quarters and Suna cried for something, he would only be able to guess at what she wanted.

But there would be no more attacks. No more risk of dropping Suna, or of being crippled at precisely the wrong moment during a mission. He had lost a sense, but he was healthier, and everyone was safer for it.

He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, convincing himself that, for now, that would have to be enough.

\-----

“Are you all right, sir?”

Leonard jumped at Kavanaugh’s voice, turning away from the doors he’d watched close behind Spock a couple minutes ago. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just, you know…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely. “He concerns me. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” she promised, fond amusement sparkling in her little smile. “He’ll be fine. If the stories you and the others have told about him and the captain are true, they always end up fine.”

“It’s the road _to _fine that worries me.” He narrowed his eyes. “Wait. Are you insinuating that we’re a bunch of liars?”

“Some of your stories _are_ a little wild,” she pointed out. “Abraham Lincoln floating in space, for one.”

“All right, yeah, I still can’t believe that one either,” he allowed. “We’ve seen some weird crap over the years.”

She held up her tricorder like a glass of bourbon. “And here’s to many more.”

He laughed, straightening up. “I’m heading to the bridge.”

“The bridge?” she exclaimed. “You never go up there.”

“I used to,” he reminded her. Once upon a time, he had tried to retain that piece of normalcy, lounging against the wall beside Nyota. So long as he wasn’t disruptive, Terrell didn’t try to deter him. Without Jim around, the bridge had been a lot quieter anyway. “Before the away mission.”

“Oh,” she said, remembrance dawning in her eyes. Her smile softened to something warmer, more encouraging. “Have fun, sir.”

He smirked, tossing his parting words over his shoulder. “I’ve got the hobgoblin to annoy and Jim to threaten with hypos – it’ll be just like old times.”

_I hope._

He made it to the turbolift before the doubt started to choke him. The doors closed behind him, shutting him in, leaving him to confront the button that would take him to the bridge. He had known this was coming, had resolved that he _would _take up his old habit of hanging out on the bridge, had had three weeks to prepare for it, and he had thought he was ready to spend at least a few minutes up there, but three weeks suddenly seemed woefully inadequate to overcome four years of anxiety. His finger hovered over the button as he tried to convince himself to press it.

_It’s a button. It’s the bridge. You’ve been there a billion times. Jim will be there. Spock will be there. Everyone will-_

_Everyone will not be there. Not yet._

His finger jabbed lower, taking him away from the bridge. The comparatively open space of the corridor felt like a gift after the cramped turbolift, and though he longed for fresh air around him and solid grass beneath his feet, it was enough for him to pause, take a breath, and compose himself enough to keep walking. The sight that greeted him as a rounded the corner was the only other thing he needed to fully calm down.

Outside the doorway to the rec room they had converted into the daycare and school, Nyota was handing off Suna to one of the teenagers who volunteered to help out before school. She slung her bag off her shoulder and hung it on a hook just inside the room, then returned to the hallway to crouch in front of T’Lal, smiling. “Have a good day, sweetheart.”

T’Lal stuck her hand out. “You too, Nyota.”

Nyota shook it, standing as T’Lal went inside. “I know you’re lurking, Len,” she said once the doors closed.

“I’m not lurking, I’m waiting,” he retorted, waiting for her to join him.

“Mhm, sure.”

He fell into step beside her, heading back to the turbolift. “Motherhood looks good on you, Ny.”

“I’m not quite their mother,” she pointed out. “I’m just happy she shakes my hand.”

“Give it time,” he said. “She’ll warm up to you.”

“I hope so,” she sighed. “I’ve always wanted to be a mother. I just… didn’t imagine it quite like this.”

“Life is full of surprises,” he said, leaning back against the turbolift wall in a show of nonchalance. He moved a little too fast, hitting the wall a little too hard, and winced. “You’ll get used to this. All of you will.”

Nyota saw straight through the act, watching him as she pressed the button he had been unable to. “What about you? How are you holding up?”

He shrugged, looking up as the turbolift started to climb. “Been better. Been worse. Not really looking forward to being in a room with a giant window to the stars for hours on end.”

She pursed her lips sympathetically, rubbing his arm. “You’ll get used to it, too.”

“I know.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “It just doesn’t help that today is what it is, I guess.”

Not for the first time that morning, he wondered what Joanna was doing for her eighteenth birthday. Partying with friends? Traveling with her mother? Studying alone because she had plans on a different day? He didn’t know what her hobbies were these days. Hell, he didn’t even know if her last name was still McCoy or if Jocelyn had changed it to her maiden name, Hernandez. If he tried to look her up, tried to call her, would he even be able to find her? Would she even answer if he did?

“I wish I could bring her back to you,” Nyota murmured.

He opened his eyes, forcing a smile. “Every day without her hurts like hell, but I have no idea if me calling her out of the blue the minute she turns eighteen would be welcome or not. Maybe, if she doesn’t reach out, I’ll try to talk to Jocelyn about her when we get back to Earth, but until then… I’ll just have to hope she doesn’t hate me.”

The turbolift slid to a halt, and without missing a beat, Nyota looped her arm through his and walked onto the bridge with him. “You were a great father for seven years – I’m sure she remembers that.”

He thought of the last six months before the divorce, of everything the crew didn’t know about what had to led to him being a hungover mess on the shuttle for new recruits eleven years ago. “Maybe.”

Nyota unhooked their arms to sit at her station, donning her earpiece. He leaned against the console between her and Spock, crossing his arms. He could see the viewscreen, looming like some harbinger of doom as far as his anxiety was concerned, but being with them made the vacuum of space feel significantly less threatening. “Where’s Jim?”

Spock looked around. “Late.”

Leonard rolled his eyes. “You don’t say.”

“It is not unusual.”

“True. And where’s his surprise?”

“Awaiting her signal.”

Nyota laid her hand on Leonard’s elbow. “Yes, I have him right here. Who’s calling?”

His heart clenched painfully in his chest, strangled by a hope he almost didn’t dare have. Her eyes widened, and when she looked up at him, a grin slowly spread across her face. “It’s for you, Len. It’s Joanna.”

A million things he could say raced through his mind, the urge to snatch up the earpiece for himself and talk to his daughter for the first time in a lifetime overwhelming him, but his voice failed him and he froze, unable to do more than find Nyota’s hand and squeeze it.

She squeezed in return. “Yes, I’ll transfer him to a video call. He’ll be there in a moment.” She paused the call, sending it somewhere else. “Jim’s ready room, Len. Go.”

He ran, and when he dropped into Jim’s desk chair, she was on the monitor – his baby girl, all grown up. He took a long moment to look at her, at the dark brown hair cascading down past her shoulders, framing her round face that had lost every trace of baby fat, looking almost exactly like Jocelyn had at that age, right down to the adorably lopsided smile. When he finally found his voice, the Spanish he had learned for her and her mother, long hidden away as a reminder of what he had lost, came back to him in a heartbeat, rolling instinctively off his tongue in a shaky, overjoyed greeting of “_Hola_, _mija_.”

She beamed at him, hazel eyes brimming with tears. “_Hola_, _papi_.”

He wanted nothing more than to hug her and never let go. He settled for a simple “How ya been, kiddo?”

She told him, and he savored every single word.

\-----

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that happy,” Nyota remarked after Len disappeared into Jim’s ready room.

“Any good parent would feel the same after so long without contacting their child,” Spock said, turning back to his station, adorned now with a picture of T’Lal and Suna in the corner. “Did dropping my daughters off go well?”

“It did,” she answered. It was her first time getting them ready alone in the morning, and they had both been concerned about how it would go. “She was a bit nervous, but T’Lal was perfect, and Suna barely even noticed getting her meds.”

“That is good,” he said.

“What about you?” she asked. “How did your morning go?”

He hesitated before responding, which was all the answer she needed. “It went according to plan.”

She reached for his hand, then redirected, squeezing his shoulder instead, keeping the two layers of fabric between their skin. “You’ll get through this. You’ll find a way, and we’ll be right here through the whole thing.”

He leaned into her touch, and she took that as a silent _I know_.

\-----

Jim awaited the start of his shift in one of his favorite hiding spots in engineering. This particular corner didn’t have a window to the stars, and he had his knees tucked up almost to his chest to fit, but it was as close as he could get to the warp core without being irradiated again. With his back pressed to the wall, he could feel the purr of his ship’s engine in his soul, steady and soothing.

It felt like home.

“Oi! Ye aren’t hiding from the doc already, are ya?”

Jim looked up from his PADD to see Scotty bent over to look through the short tube he’d crawled through to get in here. “No, I’m just waiting for- damn, I’m late, aren’t I?”

“Aye,” he said. “Get out here, laddie.”

Jim pushed the PADD ahead of him into Scotty’s waiting hands and crawled out after it. “I literally had a clock in my hand,” he grumbled. “You’d think I’d be on time.”

“I think we’d be suspicious that some alien entity had possessed ya if you’d been on time,” Scotty pointed out, helping him up once he was out. “Ya aren’t exactly known for punctuality.”

“Fair,” Jim sighed, smoothing his wrinkled shirt. He had gladly abandoned the grey Yorktown uniform, switching back to solid command gold, his captain’s stripes gleaming silver on his wrists.

Scotty handed the PADD back. “Studying her schematics?”

“Just checking what changes have been made since I transferred,” he said, glancing over them one last time. “A captain can never know his ship too well.”

“Aye,” Scotty agreed, giving the wall a pat. “I’d swear she’s been running better since you signed yer transfer orders. She missed ya.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” He glanced at the PADD’s clock, noticed how late he was, and sighed. “Thanks for getting me.”

“Any time,” Scotty said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Now get up to yer bridge, Captain.”

Jim walked out backwards, giving Scotty a mock salute as he left. Then he hurried to the nearest turbolift, practically bouncing across the threshold, and ascended to his bridge.

“Keptin on ze bridge!” Chekov chirped.

Jim lifted his chin at that, gaze sweeping around the bridge to take in his crew as he strode to his chair. He stopped beside it, noting one empty station and one conspicuous absence. “Where’s Bones?”

“On a call,” Uhura answered. “He should be out soon.”

“Out? Out from- did he take over my ready room _already_?”

“He did.”

Jim sighed. “Whatever. Are we cleared to leave?”

“There’s been a slight delay,” she said. “Dock control will inform us when we can leave.”

“All right,” he said. “In the meantime, Spock, why’s that science station empty?”

He glanced at Uhura, waiting for her to press a button before answering, and Jim could’ve sworn he saw a mischievous glint flash in her eye. “We have a last-minute transfer, Captain.”

“Transfer?” he echoed. “I didn’t request any new science officers.”

“Does that mean I don’t have permission to board, Captain?”

Jim’s eyes widened at the familiar British accent. He whipped around and, in person for the first time since she had transferred early in the second year of their mission, saw the one and only Carol Marcus. “Carol!” he exclaimed. “H-hi.”

“Smooth,” Uhura stage-whispered, her voice echoing across the bridge. Jim’s ears burned.

Carol was positively alight with mischief, her smile broader than the saucer section. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“What question?” he asked, his mind suddenly blank. “Oh! Right. Um, yeah, of course you have permission to board, Doctor Marcus.”

“Thank goodness,” she teased, crossing the bridge to wrap him in a hug. “It’s good to see you, Jim.”

He returned the hug, relieved that that, at least, he managed to do without looking like an idiot. “It’s good to see you too.” He pulled back, normalcy coming more easily as the surprise wore off. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought your assignment wasn’t over for another month.”

“When I realized I could catch you on Yorktown, I lied a little,” she answered. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Mission accomplished.”

“Damn it, guys, you were supposed to wait until I was on the bridge!”

Jim sighed, turning to Bones. “You were in on this too?”

Bones ignored him. “Tell me someone got pictures, a video, _something_. What did his face look like? What did he say? Please tell me he acted like an idiot.”

“He definitely acted like an idiot,” Sulu said.

“He nearly tripped turning to face her,” Chekov added.

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. “The next person to speak will spend the rest of their shift cleaning the bathrooms.”

“I think he was blushing,” Uhura said, her tone daring him to follow through on his threat.

Carol patted his shoulder. “This is a losing battle, Jim.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “Just- go back to work. All of you.”

They obeyed, but the mocking and snickering did not die down. He dropped into his chair with a sigh, scrubbing his hand down his face. “Why did I miss this?”

Bones joined him, leaning on the back of his chair. “Because you’re a moron.”

“Thanks,” he said drily. He twisted to look up at him. “Uhura said Joanna called.”

Bones’s entire being lit up like a Christmas tree. “She’s going into Starfleet Academy in the fall. Wants to be a doctor, just like her old man.”

“She’s got a place on the _Enterprise_ when she’s ready,” Jim promised. “Assuming, you know, she’s got the grades for it.”

Bones narrowed his eyes. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

“No!” Jim said, leaning away. “I just can’t engage in nepotism.”

His eyes stayed narrowed. “Good.”

“Captain,” Uhura cut in, “we’re cleared for departure.”

_Thank God. _“Take us out, Sulu,” he ordered. “One-quarter impulse until we’re clear of the station, then punch it.”

“Yes, sir.”

The ship shuddered slightly as the docking clamps released, and then they were off, backing out of the station and turning for Earth.

“Oh, Starfleet approved my request for a permanent counselor,” Jim told Bones. “They sent in some resumes for us to look over before we get to Earth.”

“‘Some’ means a few hundred, doesn’t it?”

“Yup.”

“Great.”

Jim glanced at the stars now racing past the viewscreen. He almost breathed a sigh of relief at the sight, at knowing that he was _moving _again, no longer rotting on an immobile station light years away from his friends and family, but he knew it wasn’t such a welcome sight to everybody. “You doing ok?” he asked quietly.

“My daughter calls me now and our entire crew is right where they belong,” he answered. “Something tells me I’ll be just fine.”

Jim nodded, taking another look around the bridge. In front of him, Sulu and Chekov shared a laugh as they set a course for Earth. Behind him, Carol took some data to Spock, Uhura leaning in to be part of the conversation, welcoming her back into the fold. Somewhere below him, Scotty was overseeing routine maintenance, Ben was in the hydroponics bay growing them fresh vegetables, Demora was in class, and T’Lal and Suna were playing happily in the daycare.

Not all was well, of course. Spock and T’Lal had a long road ahead of them to overcome the pain T’Pring had caused them; Suna had her lifelong illness to contend with; Uhura would face her own struggles integrating into Spock’s family; Bones was clutching the back of his chair a little too hard, belying his casual words; and Jim had spent a long call to his mom the night before worrying about if he could be the captain his crew remembered.

But after four and a half years long years apart, they were all together once again, and Bones was right: In the end, that was all they really needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We Could Not Stay is officially over, but as you may have guessed if you noticed the new series tag, this story is just beginning! I'm not sure when I'll be able to get it out, but planning of the sequel is already well under way, and I've even started writing one of the early scenes. In the meantime, you can enjoy one-shots about various characters at various times - each one referencing the events/characters of this fic and its sequels will be tagged "set in my We Could Not Stay verse" if you want to look at those. So thank you again for reading, I hope you enjoyed this fic, and I hope you'll continue to enjoy the series!
> 
> Oh! Since I'm thinking of it: I have several deleted/alternate scenes saved. Would you guys be interested in those?? I can post them in as a separate fic if you are, writer's commentary included


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